


Playing Normal

by fluidtime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluidtime/pseuds/fluidtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is called away for a week, Sam and Castiel have the Bunker to themselves. They decide to take a break from saving the world to just chill out and have some fun. Feelings soon develop as they waste hours away together and they spend their time holding hands and trading kisses all while experiencing mundane aspects of "normal". </p><p>Written for SCBB 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Sonny Goes to the Hospital and Dean Leaves Sam and Cass Alone in the Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> [Written for the SCBB 2014.](http://www.sastiel_bigbang.livejournal.com) 
> 
> This was my first ever Big Bang and I need to give a huge shout-out to the lovely admins running it, my artist [Chef_Geekier](http://chef-geekier.livejournal.com/), and my beta [createsbabe](http://createsbabe.livejournal.com/). I swear, I had problems at every turn, and everyone was so nice, forgiving and understanding through the whole process. (I was probably a pain to work with.)
> 
> I look forward to possibly, maybe, participating again next year and I hope yall enjoy the story.
> 
> Please visit [the art post for this fic](http://chef-geekier.livejournal.com/73923.html) by my wonderful artist and leave them some love. I really want to emphasize how awesome they were the whole time, and they have quite a lot of other stuff posted as well that yall might find interesting.

 

 

 

 

 

PROLOGUE

 

Some books in the Men of Letters’ library are ancient and old with thick parchment for pages and vivid inks that blot the taut skin. There’s handwritten scrawl, still elegant the way the words dance across the paper, lifting stories into a reader’s imagination. There’s thick, sticky residue from the first printing presses, small indents littering the paper, so thin you could cram a thousand pages between an inch of spine.

 

But there are other books that are newer with crisp lines and clear lettering. White paper like pure snow and binding that has no cracks and a smell like home. Some covers are soft paper, bending to the will of the reader, willing them to be handled with care, the backs of crinkled sheets simply glued together in haste.

 

Both types are sprawled open, littering one of the large, oak tables in the bunker, Sam hunched over them, flicking between texts, one hand with a tight grip on a ballpoint pen, hovering over a stack of lined paper where he occasionally jots down a note. He has loopy calligraphy that seems out of time for the modern era they live in, but fits right in with the soft interior of the old library, a strangely preserved relic of the fifties in and of itself.

 

Castiel just watches him, observes his large hands tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ears or his eyebrows crinkling together as he skims over a confusing passage, switching books again because he needs another reference. Castiel likes how he smirks when he understands something and scribbles down the new information, briefly biting his lip before releasing it, a thin trace of wet that quickly disappears.

 

He likes Sam in a way that’s completely foreign to any emotion he’s experienced before. He likes Sam in a way he’s pretty sure he couldn’t mention to Dean or Bobby if he were still alive. He likes Sam in a way that’s comfort, and at the same time anything but, causing his stomach to knot and his throat to catch, becoming impossibly tight and dry.

 

Sam inhales deeply and closes his eyes, leaning back in his chair and carding large fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face. He simply sits there, serene and peaceful, breathing slowing down to a low pass of air through his lungs. Cass almost thinks that he’s fallen asleep, but is startled when Sam opens his mouth to say, “are you just going to stand there for the rest of the day, or actually come in and be of some use.”

 

Maybe Castiel is embarrassed, but he walks towards the table nonetheless, Sam cracking an eye open to watch his progress, already grinning, indicating that his previous statement had been in jest. Castiel doesn’t know why that causes a slight rush of lightheadedness, but it does, and he reaches out a palm to ground himself with the feel of the cool wood table beneath his skin.

 

“What are your plans for today?” Sam asks as if the angel had anywhere to go or anyone to see. But heaven is off-limits, and his social circle has been reduced to the two Winchester’s he’s living with. Nothing cosmic requires his presence and even if it did, he wouldn’t be much use in his current state, undoubtedly human and powerless.

 

“I do not have any,” he responds, taking a seat across from Sam, forearms leaning against the table as he folds his hands together.

 

He must look too serious because Sam just laughs and shakes his head, leaning back forward and adjusting his position in the chair.

 

“Do you want to help me with some things?” He squints down at a particular book, large and old, pages yellowed by time. “I could kind of use your expertise. I don’t think Dean would… he’d probably make less progress than I have.”

 

Castiel nods and gives a half-smile, prompting Sam to push the book over to him, straightening it so that he could clearly make out the lettering in front of him.

 

“It’s talking about heaven,” Sam explains, pointing to a bolded header a third of the way down the page. “I don’t know if it’s useful, but I can’t seem to understand much of it. I thought it was Greek initially, which is why I know the topic of it at all, but now I think it’s a language that’s similar that I’ve never heard of, because I can’t translate it at all.”

  
Castiel picks up the book and leans in close, nose almost touching the paper. “Yes,” he says, not looking up, “I think I may be of some assistance.”  
  


  
CHAPTER ONE: IN WHICH SONNY GOES TO THE HOSPITAL AND LEAVES SAM AND CASS ALONE IN THE BUNKER

 

The wind howled outside, and although the four walls of the tattered barn provided some shelter from the hounding rain, the rotting wood left gaps in the roof that allowed water to slowly seep though, falling to the ground in silent kerplunks. There was a tractor in the middle of the hay-covered ground, metal now slick with a sheen of wet, broken down and in ill-repair from overuse and lack of regular maintenance.

Sonny knew it was a bad idea to try and fix the damn thing in these conditions. It was cold, decreasing his dexterity, fingers frozen and almost immovable and as the sun set further, already muted by the overcast, the mechanics were only illuminated by a flickering incandescent bulb suspended by a worn string from the ceiling. He squinted in order to see the rusty parts linked together, but could barely make out details or edges.

Sighing, he resigned himself from the work, figuring that he would probably only mess something up and cause himself more trouble down the line if he continued in these conditions, but as he hopped down from the leather seat, his foot caught on the rubber guard below him, unbalancing his movement and sending him careening to the compact, dirt ground, the straw providing little cushion.

He could hear cracking of bone beneath his hip before a sharp pain shot throughout his leg and abdomen. Groaning and turning over, he hoisted himself up and gritted his teeth together, willing the pain to go away. It was a half-mile back to the house, and he hadn’t a cell phone to call anyone up here. If the forecast was anything to go by, there was no waiting out the rain either: it was supposed to pour all night.

So he hoisted himself up, and began limping the journey down the uneven path back to the house, the soaked ground turning into mud beneath his feet, shoes squelching and threatening to be pulled off with every step, jeans occasionally catching on low vines and twigs of foliage. He hissed every time a misstep caused him to put unnecessary pressure on his hip, but otherwise fared well, given his condition.

When he finally entered the dry sanctuary of his home, peeling off the wet jacket and damp shirt, running a hand through his hair to briefly detangle the long strands, he dragged himself over to the phone, practically collapsing on the small chair beside it. He lifted the receiver and dialed the number for Suzanne, who ran the small hardware store he ordered supplies from.

She answered cheerful, although he was able to detect a tired weariness that the low timber of her voice couldn’t keep at bay. It had probably been a long day at work for her, and he probably disturbed her in the middle of closing. He bit back an apology before asking how her evening was going, never leaving manners by the wayside.

“Same old, same old,” she replied, leaning against the smooth countertop that held the cash register. “To what do I owe the pleasure of? I can’t imagine that you need anything more from me unless it’s some kind of emergency.”

Sonny smiled. “It kinda is. I need a ride up to the hospital. I’ve screwed my hip up and I can’t drive there myself.”

“Shit, Sonny, why didn’t ya say as soon as you got on the line? I’m on my way up right now. How ‘bout you down a couple of Advil and don’t do anything too stupid before I get there.”

“I’ll try by best,” he laughed, replaced the receiver on top of the phone and began to hobble up the narrow staircase to his bathroom.

He took Suzanne’s advice and swallowed two of the small blue capsules before examining his disheveled state in the mirror and grimacing at the oil and dirt smeared across his face. He turned on the water, allowing it to run lukewarm before scrubbing at his cheeks, doing his best to clean up. He should probably change his clothing, but the thought of trying to work his jeans off caused him to balk, and he compromised by pulling on a clean shirt and dry sweater, deciding to deal with his pants only when absolutely necessary.

A couple minutes passed with him staring into the nothingness of a blank wall on the side of his bedroom. He was interrupted once by one of the older boys, which was good because he explained that he was about to go to the hospital, and would probably be back later that night and to spread the word amongst the other kids there so they weren’t worried about what happened. He trusted Jake, the eldest of the bunch, to keep things in running order in his brief absence.

A knock at the door echoed throughout the house, and Sonny rushed (as well as he could manage) to open it, greeted by Suzanne who had the forethought to bring a large umbrella they could both fit under as they made their way to her car, arm slung over her delicate shoulders, leaning heavily on her slight frame as she eased him into the passenger seat.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, an underlying fondness layered over exasperation as she locked him in and walked around the front of the Toyota, clambering into the seat next to him. “What were you doin’ this time to get yourself hurt this bad?”

“I was trying to fix that tractor I ordered the extra parts for.”  
  


“The one that’s up in the old barn?”

“That’s it.”

She shook her head and mumbled, “you’re an idiot,” again.

The hospital was quiet and mostly empty. Sonny got through quick enough, and when the x-rays came back it turned out that, yes, he had shattered his hip and would need replacement surgery, putting him completely out of commission for a week, and probably having to require additional help around the house for some time after while he completes physical therapy. This definitely wasn't what he needed, but he silently thanked whoever that it wasn’t worse. He was sure somebody would be able to watch the boys for a week and he was well enough off that he could afford the procedure.

“Do you want me to call someone to see about lookin’ over the house?” Suzanne asked as if reading his mind.

“Actually yes.” A thought had occurred to him. It might be a stretch to think that Dean would be able to take a week off from saving the world, but Sonny couldn’t think of a better person to stick the boys with for a week. Dean had grown up responsible, had an air of authority about him, but would still be considered ‘cool’ by the kids and someone they’d want to work with.

He scrawled the hunter’s number on a piece of paper and handed it to Suzanne who walked over to the corner of the small room and lifted the receiver of the tan phone mounted on the wall, pressing nine to dial out.

Sonny sighed and strained his ears to listen as best he could to the one-sided conversation, and could barely make out a gruff voice on the other end of the line. He couldn’t understand anything it was saying though.

It felt as if they talked longer than necessary, but as Suzanne made the parting remarks of, “thank you, we all really appreciate it,” it didn’t matter much. He was pretty sure Dean had just agreed. Tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding ebbed out of him, and he smiled at Suzanne as she gave a goofy and exaggerated thumbs-up to him from across the room.

Halfway across the country Dean pressed the end call button on his cell, tossing it onto the firm mattress of his bed, and hauling a black duffel out from underneath. He threw various clothing items into it, not taking much care. He spent too much of his life packing to spend time folding his damn boxers. Besides, he was only going to be gone a week. There wasn't anything he could forget that he couldn’t live without for seven days.

The last thing he grabbed was a half empty tube of toothpaste from the bedside table, exiting the room as he shoved it into a side-pocket on his bag and heading to the kitchen where Sam was prepping a salad for himself -- no surprise there.

“I’m heading out for a week,” he announced, standing in the middle of the room.

Sam paused, knife in hand, an uncut tomato beneath the shiny steel blade. He looked at Dean, an unspoken signal to explain.

“Sonny called, and he needs some help. It’s not a case,” he added before his brother could protest, “just someone to look after the house while he’s out. He’s getting some hip surgery done.” Dean smiled. “I guess we all grow old at some point, eh?”

Sam was silent. “Anyway, he’s calling in a favor, so I’m gonna…” Dean trailed off, contorting his fingers into points that were waving at the door out.

“By ‘look after the house’ you mean take care of the kids?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get defensive,” Sam smiled, able to hear the tension beginning to rise in Dean’s voice. He honestly wasn’t looking for a fight. “I just didn’t realize you had become such a mother.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Sam gesturing out with his knife. “Go, and call when you get there.”

“Will do, Sammy,” he grinned, mock saluted, and practically bolted for the exit.

Sam turned back to his food and began to slice the delicate tomatoes into thick wedges. He hummed to himself, thinking that it was probably better that Dean was taking a break from hunting. It was beginning to wear on him, the bags under his eyes were deeper lately, his temper even shorter than it previously was. Unlike Sam, who was content to relax into research and organization, who saw the vast expanse of text in a book as comfort, Dean got irritated with studying and drank himself into a calm oblivion to escape the strenuous lifestyle. He lacked any type of healthy outlet. Helping Sonny and bonding with some of the boys would probably serve as a nice and much needed vacation. Plus, Sam couldn’t deny that he was excited to have the bunker to himself.

Well, mostly to himself, he thought. He glanced over through the Kitchen entrance-way at Castiel, perched in a large armchair, near one of the library’s tabes. He was working, rustling through a couple papers and shifting a scroll aside to pull a large, leather-bound book forward, gently flipping through its contents, reading a small passage he was looking for and turning back to the parchment. Sam watched him. He loved how focused Castiel could be, completely dedicated to his work, nearly buried in research materials. It made him smile, and reminded Sam of Stanford, of nights spent in one of the large stone libraries on campus, furiously cramming information for whatever class he had been taking.

He thinks that maybe Castiel would have liked it there. Maybe he would have liked to be a scholar or professor if he hadn’t been so busy being an ancient angelic force.

Sam shook his head, and pulled over a couple bell peppers that he had previously washed, beginning to cut them into long strips. It was silly to think of an angel at Stanford, or any college really. What could they have learned from those classes that they hadn’t already observed in their own lifetimes?

Castiel had become a friend, a fighting companion, someone who was always there to help the Winchesters, and also someone who they could laugh and spend nonsense time with. Sometimes Sam had to take a moment to remind himself that Castiel wasn’t human, He wasn’t some man in his mid-thirties that had some magic power. Castiel was eternal.

Well, he used to be at least. It must be very disorienting to suddenly be human, have human needs and senses, weaknesses that Sam never even would have considered hindrances. Yeah, now that he thought of it having to go to the bathroom every couple of hours was a huge inconvenience, but it was a fact of life that he never questioned until Castiel complained about it.

Still, the thought of Cass at University, eager to learn about life, made him smile, and he couldn’t see the harm in letting his thoughts run away with him in this little fantasy, if only for a moment.

He was almost finished with the salad, slipping the dirtied knife into the sink before ripping up the large chunks of lettuce over a large bowl, adding the other prepared vegetables last. He called out to Cass, accidentally startling him and causing the man to look up, momentarily confused.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, and gestured to the food he had been making. “Do you want any?”

“Yes,” Cass smiled,  “thank you, Sam. That would be nice.”

Instead of divvying the food onto separate plates he brought over a single platter filled with the crisp greens, and offered Cass one of the two forks he held.

Castiel accepted the instrument, poked a cucumber and took a bite, eyes never leaving the page in front of him. Sam let out a breathy chuckle, knowing what it was like to get that absorbed in your work. He briefly pondered whether an attempt at conversation should even be made, but decided that he really didn’t feel like busying himself in the musty tomes. He had already been doing that for hours at a time recently, and craved some normal conversation.

At least as normal as you could get, talking to an ex-angel.

“How’s the book coming along?” he asked, skewering some of the vegetables himself and shoveling them into his mouth.

Castiel blinked before looking back up at Sam and eating another bite of salad.

“Slowly,” he replied around a mouthful of lettuce, apparently briefly forgoing manners before swallowing and finishing his sentence. “You’re right, it’s Greek, but it has Enochian mixed it with it -- which would be why you were unable to translate it.”

“Like Spanglish, only not with English or Spanish.”

Cass cocked his head. “I don’t know.”

Sam smiled. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, understanding what Castiel had been saying. “How are you reading it, anyway? I thought only prophets could decipher Enochian.”

“I’m making educated guesses based on the context. This scroll,” he said fingering the corner of a yellowed piece of parchment, “it’s been helpful, giving some language references, but this has still been difficult. You would probably be able to complete this task given enough time, but I’m fluent in Greek, where yours is… passable.”

Sam snorted and let out a sarcastic, “thanks.”

Castiel nodded and turned back to the book, either not recognizing or not acknowledging Sam’s intonation. It was fair, because Sam wouldn’t even consider his Greek passable, although he could probably read more of it than he would actually be able to speak.

So he just took another mouthful of salad and chewed, swallowing before trying to talk again. “Dean is gone for the week.”

“I heard.”

“So, um,” Sam swallowed, suddenly a bit unsure. “I was thinking maybe we could take the week off? I mean, you can do whatever you want of course, but I think I’m just going to take advantage of having some solace and not worry about hunting for once.”

He poked around a couple of vegetables for something to do while waiting for Cass’ response.

It seemed impractical to Castiel, taking a week off because they simply wanted to, because they could. But whimsey was something inherently human, and Cass was human now. As much as he wanted to find heaven and fix the angels, reignite his grace, the idea of exploring relaxation for a week with Sam was astonishingly inviting.

He swallowed, able to feel the pull of saliva down his throat, once again tight with a type of unrecognizable tension, nervous for seemingly no reason. All of these sensations, human sensations, so foreign to him. Angels pretend to understand the beauty of humanity, but experiencing it firsthand made him fully appreciate the complexity of living.

He looked up at Sam, who was nibbling at a pepper, meeting his gaze. Eyes weren’t really a window to one’s soul. There wasn’t some magic portal that people so often imagined, humans can’t physically see something so pure. But in that moment, where he could see the swells of Sam’s black pupils, irises a ring of dancing colors around them, he could see why people thought so, why novels always described a lover’s gaze as magical, something that transcended time. He understood how people felt like they could get lost in each other's eyes for eternity.

He thought about telling Sam all of this. Sam, who was always so curious about angels, their lives and existence. Sam, who would probably marvel that an angel could ever treasure human experience as something equally wondrous. And Sam, who sat, very real, in front of Castiel, eating another pepper,  waiting for a response.

  
So instead he took a breath and said, “I think a week of doing nothing sounds wonderful,” and didn’t add that they wouldn’t really be doing nothing, they would be living, and that Castiel was going to relish every moment spent experiencing the mundane.


	2. In Which We Find out That Cass Is Quite the Party Animal

 

CHAPTER TWO: IN WHICH WE FIND OUT THAT CASS IS QUITE THE PARTY ANIMAL

 

The sun shone brightly through the small windows at the top of the bunker giving the wide area a warm glow. The kitchen was bright, Sam standing in the middle whisking eggs together in a pan. He smiled at Castiel as he walked in and sat at one of the stools near the counter, watching the careful preparation of breakfast. They were both still in their pyjamas, Castiel’s hair mussed from sleep, a hint of stubble adorned his chin.

 

“Goodmorning,” Sam said, his voice cheery. He was in a good mood, had slept well and was looking forward to a week of whatever he wanted. He felt free, and hadn't felt like that since…

 

Sam bit his lip and turned back to the eggs, not wanting to go down that path. If he was going to delude himself with a week of carelessness, he wasn’t going to reminisce about the unpleasant past that was his life.

 

Castiel had nodded as Sam greeted him, repeating the motion when Sam asked if he wanted any of the eggs. Cracking a couple more into the pan and adding a splash of milk, whisking them together, Sam’s hands worked with a subtle grace. He didn’t have to think about the preparation of this meal because he had made it so many more times before. Castiel thought there was something beautiful about the repetition of simple actions. He doubted anyone else, human or angel, would understand.

 

Cass watched him for a couple moments longer. “How long is Dean gone?” he asked, voice even lower with the haze of morning, surprising even himself.

 

Sam shrugged. “A week maybe? That’s what he told me when he called last night.” He grinned and clicked the temperature of the stove a couple notches lower. “Why? Are you trying to get me out of the bunker too? I didn’t think throwing ragers was your style.”

 

“I was not trying to ‘get you out of the house’. I assure you it was simply curiosity. I’m not angry.”

 

Sam busied himself with removing the eggs from the burner, pulling a plate towards him and beginning to scrape the food onto it. He smiled, determinedly not looking at Cass, sure that one glance would set his cheeks on fire.

 

“I rager is a large party, usually pretty messy and destructive. It doesn’t have anything to do with actual rage. I know you’re not angry.”

 

“If you were implying that I don’t know how to throw a party, you would be very much mistaken. I hosted many events in heaven.”

 

“Really?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows. He handed Cass a fork, and scooted part of the laden plate towards him, once again not bothering to separate their food. He didn’t think Cass would mind, and it was less work later on when it came time to wash the dishes. Besides, there was something inherently domestic about sharing breakfast and domesticity was a romantic idea Sam had always harbored.

 

“You probably would not find them enjoyable though. They are very different than the one’s on Earth.”

 

He doubted that Cass had ever been to a party on earth, but was interested nonetheless, wondering what shenanigans could possibly have been made in Heaven. Of course angels had to entertain themselves somehow, he just never considered them doing anything other than carrying out God’s work or pestering him and his brother.

 

“Please,” he said around a mouthful of egg and holding back laughter, “tell me about them.”

 

“From what I’ve observed, food and red plastic cups are essential to a good party here.” Sam snorted, but didn’t say anything because, well, Cass wasn’t exactly wrong, “but,” he continued, “in Heaven we neither have nor desire any of these items. We do have party games.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“My favorite was always moon maring.”

 

“What?”

 

Castiel looked down and gave a short laugh, turning back to breakfast and beginning to eat. “We have an unspoken rule that our games can not interfere with the lives of non angels. The rest of the universe, however, is our playing field. In moon maring we stand in the Large Magellanic Cloud-”

 

“The galaxy?”

 

Castiel gives him an almost exasperated look, “yes Sam, the galaxy.”

 

Sam gives him a nod to continue, and he does, but Jesus. It’s startling how nonchalant Cass could be about such monumental statements. The fact that hanging out in a neighboring galaxy is commonplace for angels reminded him of the fragility of humans. For a brief moment he could see why Lucifer saw them as so insignificant, how the devil could be so angry at his father for choosing humans over these celestial beings.

 

And he’s humbled that Cass has fought to valiantly to protect them, that any of the angels could care about their miniscule lives, humans were so… small.

 

To reiterate his thought, Cass began explaining the premise by saying, “we heave meteors at the moon.”

 

Sam just gaped at him, the food on his fork all but forgotten about as Cass continued his explanation.

 

“Our scoring system is a combination of the size of the crater left with the initial size of the rock subtracted. If you miss the moon completely than you’re subtracting the rock size from zero, and if you hit another planet, you subtract both the initial size and the size of the crater left by it.”

 

“So you’re saying that all of the meteors being thrown, they’re all just angels playing games?”

 

Castiel nodded.

 

“So that thing that came down in Russia a couple years ago, that was you?”

 

“No, that was Jophiel.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Okay, but it was an angel?”

 

Cass nodded again.

 

Sam shook his head, smiling and taking another bite. “I thought you weren’t supposed to interfere with the “lives of non-angels”. That meteor caused a bit of a disturbance, Cass.”

 

Castiel chuckled. “We’re honestly not trying to hit Earth. Your planet is just a casualty sometimes. That is why there is a penalty for landing your rock here.”

 

That made Sam laugh, a full bellied chuckle, and hearing that sound made Castiel smile.

 

“That must be fantastic,” Sam said, eyes flitting down to their place, using his fork to push around some stray eggs. “I can’t even imagine what that would be like, just being in the middle of space like that. To wield that much power, that you’re able to form craters in planets -- or moons.”

 

Castiel’s stomach knotted up again, twisting with that bizarre feeling, and he reached his hand forward, fingertips brushing against Sam’s which were resting on the counter.

 

Sam started, eyebrows raised in surprise, Castiel feeling like he was frozen in time. “It’s a matter of perspective,” he says, eyes deftly not meeting Sam’s, perhaps afraid at what the hunter would see in them, “you’re life, as commonplace as you might observe it to be, must seem fantastical to an ant, beyond conception as you have stated.”

 

Castiel pulled his hand away because he felt awkward. He hadn’t meant to reach out, didn’t think, just acted on an urge, a feeling of right and a need to comfort Sam. But he could tell that it was off. He didn’t really know how, couldn’t put it in words, but there was a feeling. Of course he knew that’s not what people normally did with each other, but there was something else in the air, an indescribable tension.

  
That’s what a lot of being human was. Things that weren’t corporeal, that didn’t exist in any dimension, that could be chalked up to one’s imagination, only everyone was able to experience it. Awkward. It was a feeling that existed, it was shared, but it wasn’t tangible. It was confusing, but liberating, exciting and new.  


Growing closer to Sam and Dean as an angel, he began to experience these things, but now being fully human he was required to rely on them. It was disorienting to say the least, but he didn’t mind too much, especially when learning these signals with Sam.

 

Sam could never tell when Cass just misunderstood human signals, or when he was being deliberate with his actions. He’d grown fond of the angel, but mostly didn’t let his mind wander in that direction, worried that he would get too carried away with his imagination and start seeing things that weren’t there.

 

But as Cass’ hand retreated, he wanted to reach back out and take it, hold it and never let go. But he didn’t, instead balling his fingers into a small fist, focusing on the food, his other hand scraping up what was left of breakfast, taking the final bite.

 

“I don’t know if comparing humans to ants makes me feel any better,” he joked, “and if there’s one thing my life isn’t, it’s commonplace.”

 

They sat there in silence, and Sam wondered if taking the week off hadn’t been a mistake. He couldn’t make an excuse to go into the library, and couldn’t avoid conversation by burying himself in books. Not that he didn’t want to talk to Cass, more than anything he did, but how much did they really have in common?

 

“What do you normally do when not hunting?”

 

Sam blinked up at him, almost not sure how to respond. He can’t think of a time recently where he had the freedom to really do what he wanted, always either busy or bending to Dean’s will. He nearly stuttered out an I don’t know, but stopped the words before they escaped. Maybe it was time for his life to be a little more common place, and if he wanted to play house with an ex-angel for a week, why not?

 

He gave his response through a wide grin, “something dumb that requires no thinking, maybe a weird movie and lots of popcorn.”

 

Was it cliche? Hell yes, but you might as well dive in headfirst.

 

“Humans oftentimes talk about popcorn. It is frequently referenced, but I have never tried it.”

 

This just made Sam smile even more as he gathered the used silverware, and headed over to the sink to rinse everything quickly.

 

“It’s about time you find out about it then.” He turned the faucet on and squirted a dab of orange soap onto the plate. “I don’t eat it that much, it’s a treat, you know? But I love the taste, and I know it’s gross, but my favorite way of eating it is when it’s dipped in melted chocolate.” He laughed. “You don’t have to eat it like that though, you can eat it like a normal person.”

 

Castiel didn’t really think that humans understood the meaning of their own word. Normal. They thought it up and conceptualized it, but use it in the oddest of contexts. Using how someone prefers their popcorn as an indicator of normal? It’s probably something he’ll never fully understand.

 

However, food is important to humans in ways that Castiel never appreciated until being immersed in their culture. Yes, they need it for survival, so it was obviously going to be a prominent aspect of day to day lives, but they have transformed food into an art, into a way to communicate with one another.

 

He may not know what popcorn dipped in chocolate tastes like, and he may not know why it was considered odd, but Castiel knew that he was going to try it, because accepting new food from others was polite and indicated graciousness and Cass was always going to be grateful for Sam’s friendship.

 

Sam had finished with the dishes and towelled his hands off on the white cloth that hung from a rack next to the sink. He turned to Castiel. “We’ll need to stop by a grocery store to grab stuff. I think we’ll have to walk. Dean took the Impala and I don’t fancy stealing a car for such a short trip. I mean,” he reached a hand up to fiddle with his hair for a brief moment, “that is if you don’t mind walking. You could always wait here for me.”

 

“No, I don’t mind. I’ll accompany you.”

 

Sam didn’t know what was happening to him. Getting nervous over Cass’ opinion on whether to walk to a store or not was not something he should fret over. It was so insignificant. And the relief, the feeling of happiness that suddenly flooded him when Cass seemed, not just willing to go, but blithe to accompany him, was so foreign.

 

He hadn’t had a crush since Jess, really. There were other’s he cared about romantically, but they were all so short-lived, more like flings with undertones of meaning he goaded himself into being blinded by. And Amelia, they just tried to glue their shattered pieces together to make some semblance at the people they used to be. He hadn’t gotten butterflies around her, his insides didn’t flip and he never felt as if he had to seduce her, woo her. He loved her, but he never thought of his affections as crush-like.

 

His skin buzzed with nervous excitement, and although he knew he shouldn’t try to pursue this, his mind couldn’t stop conjuring up wild what if’s.

 

“Well, let’s head out then,” he said, moving past Castiel to grab his jacket from over the back of a chair, briefly resting a hand on his arm.

 

Castiel was aware of the touch, and of the absence of warmth that remained after Sam had moved away. He watched the hunter pull on a cotton sweater and wondered if it had been an accident, like Castiel’s reach towards his hand this morning, or if he consciously initiated contact. Did he know the shiver it sent down Cass’ spine? Did he know it made him feel fluttery and slightly uncomfortable, yet also crave it, like everything he did should be working towards feeling those fingers against him again? Did he mean to elicit these feelings?

 

Probably not, Cass reasoned, falling into step behind Sam as they exited the bunker. Human’s weren’t mind-readers, and as much information as they were able to gleam from the most miniscule changes in facial expressions and body-language, Castiel knew people had a difficult time interpreting his intentions, oftentimes stone faced and serious in this vessel. Sam was no exception -- although both the Winchesters were better than average simply because of the amount of time spent around them.

 

So no, Sam was most likely completely unaware of these odd reactions he could bring about, just as Castiel was so completely unaware that he could do the very same to him.

 

It’s autumn. There’s a crisp chill to the air, but nothing too cold. It was dry outside and made for a pleasant walk, leaves crunching beneath their feet as they made their way to the somewhat busy sidewalk of the city. It wasn’t too crowded, but enough people were bustling by and the sidewalk was thin enough that Castiel was forced to walk very near Sam. Sometimes the back of their hands brushed together, and he would almost think that Sam was doing it on purpose if he didn’t look and act so completely unaware.

 

They approached the small store, and felt a gush of warm air on their faces as they stepped inside. It was the first time Castiel had ever been to this store. Sam had only been not even a handful of times before as well. They usually did their shopping on the road, bringing it back to the bunker.

 

Lebanon, Kansas was a small town, and Sam made a point about them not becoming regulars or well known by the locals anywhere here, especially since some of them might start wondering why they didn’t seem to own a house.

 

But he didn’t have much choice right now, and honestly preferred the brief walk with Cass to a long drive over to the neighboring town for junk food. That was something Dean would do, not him.

 

The two of them began to wander up and down the isles, Sam casually pulling things off shelves to add to the metal cart he had grabbed when they first entered. There was a larger distance between him and Cass now. That was alright. He shouldn’t get too used to flirting with the man anyway.

 

Was the occasional contact of knuckles while trying to avoid ramming into people even flirting? Maybe Dean was onto something with Sam’s seeming inability to pick up chicks. Maybe Sam had lost his touch (if he ever had one to begin with, maybe he just needed to lose his soul again). He snorted at the thought and Castiel turned towards him inquisitively.

 

“Nothing,” he mumbled to the silent question, “just thoughts running through my mind.” He eyed a package of oats before adding them to his quickly growing pile. “Feel free to pickup anything that looks interesting,” he thought to tell Cass, “we’re not really short on money right now. Might as well get what you like.”

 

Castiel said thank you, and then continued down the food aisle with Sam, examining the colorful labels and containers, but not taking an interest in any specific one. He felt like he should, especially since Sam had pointed it out as an option, but Castiel didn’t really know what he liked and what he didn’t like, didn’t know when he would choose something improper, like popcorn and chocolate, that he wouldn’t even be able to recognize as an oddity.

 

He knew he liked peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but he also knew that they were well stocked on that front and didn’t need to buy any of those ingredients. He also knew he liked burgers, but didn’t see anything that resembled them on the shelves. It was probably smarter to just follow Sam’s lead.

 

Eventually they made their way down a row of shelves that contained all sorts of boxes labeled with popcorn one way or another.

 

“Dean swears by popping from the kernels yourself, but I’ve never had anything taste as good as the stuff you make in the microwave,” Sam told him, grabbing an orange box that read Blast O’ Butter on it, and nestling it into the cart. “Do you like your popcorn with or without butter? Or maybe kernel corn?”

 

Castiel answered without taking his eyes off of the products. “I don’t know. Remember, I have never eaten popcorn before.”

 

“Right, well,” Sam began, turning back to the shelves and picking some other selections, “we can grab a variety just incase you don’t like what I have.”

 

Their cart was sufficiently full, piled high with all sorts of items that the Winchesters never usually bought. Castiel didn’t know if their selection was more or less normal than what they usually purchased, but figured that it couldn’t be too out of the ordinary for humans because the clerk ringing up their items barely batted an eye at the odd array of junk food.

 

Sam handed her exact change, and passed off some of the plastic bags to Castiel to help share the load on their walk back. Castiel accepted wordlessly, although he did briefly consider telling Sam that paper bags would be better for the environment. He didn’t though because he had mentioned it in passing to Dean a couple weeks ago and his retort had been, “you know what would be even better for earth? If these God damn angels would get off of it, but you don’t see that happening.”

 

Castiel didn’t have a response to that because Dean had pretty much been right. The angels were beginning to sweep out humans -- intentionally or not -- leaving a forest fire in their wake, wiping anything that got in its way.

 

He likes that metaphor, thinks it’s fitting to their situation. Sam, Dean and him: fire-fighters, battling against a force of nature so strong. They might put it out, but there will still be damage left, marring the ground for years to come.

 

It wasn’t a very nice thought, which is why he shook his head and said, “nothing,” when Sam asked what he was thinking of. It was very hard to separate his thought of their ongoing battle with heaven. Humans were used to compartmentalizing thoughts, they completely functioned like that. Angels, not so much. They were given orders and expected to follow through until the next set came. What they knew was what was necessary for them to know. And even after joining forces against the hive mind of Heaven, the Winchesters were so focused on saving the world that he didn’t need to forget about the seriousness of their situation. It was always fight, fight, fight with them.

 

Letting destiny or fate, or whatever one believes in, have the reigns for awhile was frightening and liberating at the same time. To be able to say I don’t care seemingly absolved oneself of responsibility. At the same time…

 

“Do you think we’re making a mistake by doing nothing for a week? Are we being selfish?”

 

Sam sighed, glancing sideways at Castiel. “Do you think we are?”

 

He pursed his lips, thinking. “Yes.”

 

They walked on for a bit. Sam was trying to think of a response, but Cass piped up before he got the chance.

 

“It is selfish, but it feels as if we should have a right to be, especially you. You have sacrificed so much, more than most creatures could in ten lifetimes.”

 

Sam smiled and looked at the ground, suddenly interested in their footsteps beating on the worn cement beneath their shoes. He blushed and hoped that Cass wouldn’t notice. He wanted to say something back, but had been rendered speechless by the sincerity in Cass’ compliment. Saying that he’s accomplished so much, that he deserved to be selfish?

 

It’s not something he heard often -- ever really, and having it being told to you by an angel? He didn’t care that Cass was graceless with no powers, he would always be divine to Sam, and his approval meant more to him than he could even begin to fathom putting to words.

 

“Thanks Cass,” he muttered, bumping shoulders with him, not breaking a moment from their stride.

 

They stepped up to the metal doors of the bunker, and Sam pressed the old key into it’s hole, making a soft click as the lock opened. He pushed forward, welcomed by the familiarity of home, and allowed Castiel to step through before closing it behind him.

 

He had resisted thinking about this place as anything but a temporary residence, but once he started cataloguing and updating the Men of Letters library and records, he knew he was only fooling himself. The bunker was spacious and welcoming. It contained almost anything they needed for hunting, and he hoped they would be able to stay off the radar here forever, because he didn’t really have any intention of moving out.

 

He laughed at the thought of trying to buy a house or pay taxes with no money and no credit. It would be impossible for him and Dean to ever fully integrate back into society -- even if they wanted to.

 

It didn’t bother him though. Sam had given up the dream of living a safe life eons ago. He hoped to be rid of hunting at some point, but he didn’t fool himself for one minute thinking that he could live like any other average American. Something supernatural would always fuck it up.

 

It wasnt so bad though. Giving up everything supernatural would mean giving up Cas, and he wasn’t about to lose his best friend since Dean because of whimsy.

 

“Do you want to pick out a movie while I start the popcorn?” he asked Cass, who had set his plastic bags from the grocery store on the kitchen counter already.

 

“My choice is likely going to be completely random,” he warned, already heading back to the little closet near Dean’s room where they had accumulated a small amount of movies. He could hear Sam chuckle in the background.

 

He opened the door to the closet and pulled out the drawer. It held two VHS tapes that managed to survive the brother’s childhood, the complete box-set for Game of Thrones seasons one through three, and some other DVDs that Charlie had left them with. He flicked through titles like Firefly and Harry Potter, not having any idea what he was trying to pick out. His hand stopped on Thor. He had met the real Thor once. He was an interesting character.

 

Castiel was sure that whatever depiction they had made of him would be incorrect, but was curious nonetheless. He made his way back into the kitchen where the smell of rich butter assaulted his nose, kernels loudly popping over the sound of the microwave buzzing. Sam stood over the stove, melting a bowl of chocolate, not even realizing Cass had entered until he was startled by the man’s presence beside him.

 

“I have chosen Thor.”

 

Sam smiled, calming the sudden jump his nerves had taken. “I’ve actually never watched it, so it’ll be an adventure for both of us.”

 

“I am interested to see how similar the movie rendition is to the real man.”

 

Sam raised an eyebrow. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised considering they had met a Loki (even if it was Gabriel in disguise), and he, himself had even wielded Mjolnir. Still, he found himself asking the stupidly human question, “Thor exists?”

 

But Cass just smiled and him and nodded.

 

“Have you met him?” Sam pressed. He didn’t really have much of a chance to learn about Cass’ old life, before the apocalypse nonsense happened. They were always going from case to case and it’s bizarre to Sam how much time he’s spend with him and how little he actually knows about his life as an angel.

 

First he learns that the craters in the moon were created by them playing games, and now Castiel has met the God of Thunder? How could he have known him years without inquiring more about his life, learning everything he could about this being.

  
He had been thinking about that more and more recently. As Castiel adjusted to being human, Sam had begun to realize how much of an angel he’d always been, but since he was powerless now, Sam felt it a bit crude to poke around in his past. He knew he was grateful that Dean left his days at Stanford mostly unquestioned, not having him re-live what could have been. Castiel probably felt the same way about Heaven, his home. He probably wondered what if too, what if he were still an angel?

 

“It was a long time ago. Asgard exists, as do many other dimensions. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Oz,” he added with a nod of his head, “and Asgard are just a few. I was travelling and ended up lost. Transcending worlds can be exhausting and complicated, and when you have to cross multiple in a day, mistakes are bound to happen. That’s why we prefer not to do it if it can be avoided.”

 

The chocolate had finished melting and Castiel watched Sam remove the pot from the heat and pour the dark sweet into a smaller bowl, and then crossing over to the microwave, removing the finished bag of popcorn and putting a second one in, pressing delicately on the plastic buttons.

 

He continued, “but I was supposed to deliver a message to Olympus, and accidentally ended up in Asgard, too tired to continue traveling at that time. Thor, Odin and Frigga were very kind and put me up for the night. I dined and relaxed in their palace until I was ready to continue on.”

 

“That’s amazing, I can’t- How many other worlds, other dimensions, are there?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “An unknowable amount. They are created and destroyed every day.”

 

“Huh,” Sam bit his lip in contemplation before the loud beep of the microwave indicated the second batch of popcorn was done. He shook the bag, opened it and dumped the contents into a large bowl, and did the same with the first package.

 

He held it out to Castiel. “Try some. If you don’t like the butter, we can make a bag of the regular kind.”

 

Cass reached for the yellow puffs, picking a couple up and placing them in his mouth. The sensation of salt and richness rushed saliva to his tongue, the kernel beginning to dissolve as he chewed, a texture that was crunchy but air-soft at the same time. Bizarre and unlike anything he’s tasted thus far.

 

“I like it.”

 

Sam grinned and began walking towards the den, cupping a hand to Cass’ back to help lead the way, fingers splayed wide.

 

“Good.”

 

Cass grabbed another handful to munch on as he let Sam direct them, managing to snag the bowl of chocolate on his way passed. As they walked, he curiously dipped a piece of the popcorn into the warm mess, and then tossing it in his mouth.

 

He made a face. It wasn’t an unpleasant taste, per say, but he couldn’t understand why someone would want to take something as delicious as popcorn, and something as delicious as chocolate, and make a sub-par product by combining them.

 

Sam noticed his face and laughed. “Yeah, the combo isn’t for everyone. Actually, I’ve never really met someone else who likes it, so it’s probably just me.”

 

“I guess you are abnormal in that regard,” Cass said jokingly, intentionally referencing Sam’s use of normal in their earlier conversation, even if it still did seem like an odd indicator to Castiel.

 

“Yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes, “that’s the only thing that makes me abnormal.”

 

Besides their individual rooms, there was only one other television in the bunker. Castiel didn’t even know why they needed personal ones considering the amount of time spent here was small to begin with, let alone time they had to watch things, but he was glad that there was a communal one, old and perched on a low-wood shelf across from a soft sofa. Watching movies or television was a lot more entertaining with other people.

 

He took a seat on the ground, leaning his back against the couch and pulling his knees to his chest. He set the chocolate on the coffee table in front of him before reaching his hands out for the bowl of popcorn since, he figured, Sam had to start the movie.

 

Sam passed the food over, and walked towards the slightly dusty DVD player, blowing some of the accumulated filth off and pressing the on button.

 

“Why are you sitting on the ground? Wouldn’t be more comfortable on the sofa?”

 

Castiel answered through a mouth full of popcorn. “It is small and I figured that you would appreciate the space. I don’t mind sitting here.”

 

He could hear the DVD click into place, and turned back to Castiel, walking over and sitting on one of the cushions, snagging the chocolate as he did so. “There’s plenty of room for both of us here.”

 

Cass shook his head. “Not if you stretch out the way you usually do.”

  
Sam raised his eyebrows. It’s true that he was most comfortable while lying down, weight on his side and head propped against the arm or a stack of pillows. He didn’t realise that he had made it enough of a habit that people noticed.

 

The edges of his lips twitched upwards as a sign of mild embarrassment. “I really don’t mind sharing with you.”

 

“And I really don’t mind giving you the extra room. Sam, please start the film. I am excited about this.”

 

Sam laughed and reached over Castiel’s shoulder to grab the remote that was sitting on the short table by Cass. He navigated the menu, quickly pressing play, and adjusting himself so that he was stretched along the length of the sofa. Well, as stretched as he could be.

 

Cass was right about there not being much room if he were positioned like this. It was a shorter than average couch, and he had to curl his legs to even fit. It was wide though, plush and comfortable. He’d managed to grab enough cushions to raise his head above Cass’, able to see the movie, and well within reach of the popcorn which had taken up a permanent residency in Castiel’s lap.

 

He could smell him though. He almost forgot to pay attention to the opening scenes because his nose was so near Castiel’s mussed hair, the nape of his neck, just a sliver of smooth skin visible before disappearing under his collar.

 

He reached down for more popcorn, a distraction if anything else, arm extending across Castiel’s chest, and he was so aware that he was practically hugging him, at how intimate their shared space was. He pulled back as quickly as he could, accidentally scattering a few kernels on Cass’ trench coat, who simply plucked them off and stuck them into his mouth.

 

Sam resisted the temptation to groan and buried his head into the pillow momentarily.  He had gone from casually hanging out with a friend to perving on him in less than a second, and nothing even remotely erotic had been happening.

 

Sam turned back around, adjusted his placement so that he could see part of Cass’ profile from where he lay while still watching the movie. It was nice. Sitting there like that, he almost felt normal. He felt safe. As the film played and the ever-present tension of their lifestyle ebbed away, he noticed his head was getting light, drowsy, which was silly since it was still mid afternoon. He felt like he could go to sleep though, listening to the resounding vibrations of various voices coming from the screen, and the deep, even breathing of Castiel sitting in front of him, so close.

 

He reached forward to set the chocolate back onto the coffee table. The last thing he needed was to spill the contents if he accidentally drifted off. He pulled back and looked up through his eyelashes at Cass who was completely focused on the television and, oh god, mindlessly licking the butter-oil from his fingers, tips skimming his pink lips. He could see the point of his tongue darting out, flicking against the pad.

 

Sam turned away, face down in his pillow and this time audibly groaned, muttering “Cass,” into the ribbed fabric.

 

Castiel turned when he head his name, alarmed to find Sam lying belly-down on the sofa, face covered completely by the cushion it was smushed into, his legs dangling off the edge.

 

“Sam, are you alright?”

 

Cass twisted his body so that he was kneeling in front of Sam’s figure and draped a hand over his shoulder. Sam sighed, realizing too late that it was a mistake to have said his name. It had just kind of… slipped out. What was he supposed to do now? Tell Cass that nothing was wrong, he was just sexually frustrated by his simple act of eating? That he wasn’t about to move from his position, face-down on the sofa, because now he was also attempting to conceal a surprise hard-on he obtained by watching the tip of the angel’s wet tongue innocently lick his fingers? No.

 

But even now as he tried to form a coherent and reasonable response, his mind kept running away from him when he remembered what even got him into this position. The blood rushing straight to his groin probably wasn’t helping things either.

 

“Nothing, just… nothing,” he said lamely, still refusing to look at Cass, words muffled through the fabric. He was sure he was sweating, checks red. No way he was going to look at that beautiful face right now. It would just make his problem worse.

 

But Castiel didn't believe that he was alright for a second. Sam was acting very oddly, and he wasn’t about to leave him lying there, looking as if he were on his deathbed.

 

“Maybe you should turn over,” he suggested, nudging the side of his arm in encouragement, “I am afraid that you will suffocate yourself in the fabric if you remain in this position.”

 

Sam almost laughed then, almost. However if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was turn over. So he shifted his head slightly, so that one eye could meet Cass’. “I’m fine, really. Just, didn’t feel good for a minute, but it’s passed. We can get back to the movie.”

 

Castiel still looked unsure, but decided to trust Sam, and instead decided to inform him that, “I ate the last of the popcorn.”

 

“I noticed,” Sam deadpanned.

 

“Do you want me to make more?”

 

“No, no,” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to think about at the moment was more popcorn. “I’m full. I don’t need anything more to eat.”

 

Castiel shrugged and turned back to Thor. They hadn’t missed too much, and it was easy to pick up the story. He reached forward for the discarded bowl of chocolate, and pulled it into his lap, setting the empty popcorn bowl in its place.

 

Since Sam wasn’t hungry, he wasn’t going to eat the rest of the chocolate he prepared, so Cass swiped a finger through the syrup and bit the soft pad, running his tongue over the ridges in his print to get the chocolate off.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. The universe must be playing a joke on him. Luckily, he remained silent this time, trying his best to ignore the obscene movements and occasional noises that Castiel was making as he cleaned the bowl, one finger-full of chocolate at a time.

 

The end of the movie could not have come sooner for Sam. Most of his body remained plastered face down on the couch, only his head faced the screen. It was beginning to cramp his neck, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to retain what was left of his dignity.

 

The credits rolled and Castiel smiled. “I enjoyed that very much. The character or Thor was not too different from reality, although I feel as if he was friendlier in this depiction.”

 

Sam gave a half-interested, “hmm,” in response.

 

“How did you find it?” he asked, while turning towards Sam.

 

“It was good. Cass, you have a bit of chocolate on your cheek.”

 

Cass reached up and rubbed it off. Their faces were so close like this, it would be so easy to lean forward and connect their lips. Sam was very aware of this, but he was also very rational and knew that would lead nowhere good.

 

Castiel exhaled as he said, “thank you,” and Sam could feel the dance of his breath against his skin.

 

They lapsed into silence. Sam felt like he should get up, gather the dishes and take them into the kitchen, do something, break them from this odd trance they were in, but he couldn’t move, not now. For some reason his mind had decided to relinquish all control over his body and Cass’ piercing blue eyes, just staring at him from where he sat, inches away were so intense and vivid that he kept imagining what they would look like next to him in bed.

 

Sometimes he wished he could shut off his brain.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You seem to be exhibiting symptoms of someone who is ill.”

 

He actually chuckled at that, finally able to take a deep breath and turn his face so that he was fully looking at Castiel.

 

“I really am fine. Just- have you ever gotten light-headed? A bit dizzy? That’s what happened. I just need a moment.”

 

Castiel nodded and thought that yes, he did know what it was like to get dizzy and light-headed. It happened in battle sometimes when he was struck too hard, or now that he was human, if he stood up too fast. But it also happened sometimes when he was near Sam, like at breakfast when he felt captured by his eyes, and moments before when he was worried he was sick.

 

Obviously many things could cause this, although he wasn’t quite sure what was at the root of Sam’s case. Maybe Sam needed to be left alone.

 

He stood up and grabbed the two bowls on the table, shoving another fingerful of chocolate into his mouth for what it was worth. He turned towards his bed-ridden companion and asked, “is there anything else I can do?”

 

Sam just shook his head and Cass headed out, closing the door to the den behind him and padded down the hallway that lead to the kitchen. Sam could hear his footsteps ease away. He slipped a hand beneath him, firmly pressing his palm against his crotch.

 

Deep breaths he told himself, and as he was finally able to relax and get the prorgraphic images of Cass out of his head. He could feel the sexual tension and frustration leave his body.

 

He exhaled. He was stupid. He couldn’t remember the last time he had let a crush get away from him like this. Maybe taking a break from hunting, or research or whatever wasn’t a good idea. He was letting too much personal get into his personal life. The last thing he wanted to do was make Cass feel uncomfortable.

 

But he was determined to enjoy this week off, and dammit if he didn’t want Cass to enjoy it as well. He wasn’t about to suggest that they end this vacation early simply because Sam couldn’t get ahold of himself. Besides, Castiel wasn’t stupid, he would probably suspect something if Sam suddenly suggest they resume their work when he had been the one that was so gung-ho about their temporary absolution of their responsibilities.

 

He thought about turning on the television and flicking through a couple channels, but decided that he should probably find Cass instead. It had been an awkward and abrupt departure, and he hoped that he hadn’t hurt his feelings.

 

He hauled himself from the sofa and exited the room, laughing. He couldn’t actually imagine Castiel getting offended by what transpired, probably more confused than anything else.

 

He found him sitting in the library, once more attempting to translate the strange mix of Greek and Enochian. He looked up when he heard Sam enter, glad that he seemed to be no longer sick or… whatever was ailing him before.

 

“I see you are feeling better,” he stated, the edge of his voice crawling slightly up so that it was also an inquiry to Sam’s health.

 

“Yeah, I just needed a few moments I guess.”

 

He walked over and took a seat in the chair next to Castiel, glancing at his profile.

 

“I thought we agreed no more work?” he said with a smile, head leaning on his folded hands, weight resting on his elbows which he had set on the table.

 

He couldn’t be sure, but he swears he saw Cass blush, just a hint of pink against his skin.

 

“I didn’t know what else to do. I have finished cleaning out dishes.”

 

Sam’s eyes flickered over to the sink for a sliver of a second, taking in the clean dishes drying in the metal rack next to it. He smiled.

 

“Thanks Cass.”

 

Castiel nodded and turned back to the old book before remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be translating it this week. He knew it didn’t matter too much, but didn’t want to offend Sam. Instead, he closed the book with a snap, and shifted it so it was fully resting on the table. He turned back to the hunter, who was smiling, eyes trailing from the book back up to his face.

 

“I guess there isn’t that much to do around here,” Sam conceded, racking his brain for activities that they would find enjoyable. Somehow he thought that breaking out the Sorry board wouldn’t be ideal, and although Sam loved Monopoly, he doesn’t think Cass would find the same enjoyment in buying and selling fake properties.

 

“Tell ya what,” he said, straightening in his seat, “how about we make dinner, real dinner not more popcorn, and then throw in another movie. When that’s finished it’ll be time to go to sleep, and tomorrow we can get out of this bunker and actually do something. Visit a market, or go to a gallery, I don’t know. Experience something we normally don’t get to do.” There was a pause before he added, “how does that sound?”

 

“It sounds good.”

 

Sam broke out into another grin and stood up, motioning for Castiel to follow as he headed into the kitchen. “Do you have anything specific in mind for what you want to eat?”

 

He almost responded with I don’t know, but instead took a moment to think. He was hungry, yes, but also recognized that although food itself sounded appealing, individual dishes didn’t necessarily.

 

“Not peanut butter and jelly,” was his first response, which made Sam chuckle. “I think,” he continued, “something savory sounds nice.”

 

“Savory, huh?” Sam pursed his lips for a moment before turning towards the refrigerator. “We have some frozen chicken breasts. I could make grilled rosemary chicken. I think there’s also some asparagus that I bought a little bit ago.”

 

“You bought it today, while we were shopping,” Castiel corrected.

 

“Did I?” Sam shook his head. “I guess it’s a good thing that I have you around. I’d loose my head otherwise.”

 

Castiel didn’t like that expression. He had heard it used before and understood it as a colloquialism of English, but couldn’t help imagining a head being torn off whenever someone said it. After all, heads don’t normally self-decapitate. If they’re separated from a human’s body for some reason, it was always by force and he was a bit more sympathetic towards human injuries since losing his powers. Now a papercut seemed to be as much a danger as getting shot on a hunt. It certainly seemed to hurt just as badly, and he couldn’t even heal it away if he wanted to.

 

However, it did feel good knowing that Sam thought him to be at least a somewhat essential part in his life. He walked over to the stove and pulled out the shallow drawer beneath it. It’s where they kept baking sheets and pans, and Castiel knew they were going to have to defrost the chicken in the oven. He grabbed one made of glass and set it on the counter as he walked over to the hanging rack where he selected a pot, moving towards the sink, flipping the handle and filling it with water.

 

Dean and Sam would oftentimes cook for each other, but when they went for larger times between cases, they usually prepared their meals separately, each having different preferences when it came to food. Castiel had watched them both, and had also been in charge of feeding himself, so while he prefered not cooking, he certainly knew how to make basic dishes. Rosemary chicken might be a bit complicated if he were making it on his own, but he was confident that he could help Sam without screwing anything up too much.

 

He set the pot full of water on one of the back-burners and turned the dial to high, placing a lid over the water, and waiting for it to boil. Sam, who had already begun placing the chicken in the pan Cass had brought him, smiled.

 

“Excuse me,” the hunter muttered, placing a hand on Cass’ lower back to guide him away from the oven momentarily, allowing Sam to open it and place the chicken inside. Castiel took the opportunity to grab the asparagus from the counter, but never walked far enough away to displace Sam’s hand. He liked the warm feeling that spread from the contact. He wasn’t going to end that sooner than necessary.

 

Sam hadn’t even thought when he had first made the motion, but was glad that Cass seemed to deliberately keep contact. He slid the pan onto the blackened grates of the oven shelf and backed away, having to remove his hand in order to close the door and because it really wasn't necessary at this point.

 

But as they both worked around each other in the kitchen, they formed a pattern of small touches here and there, sometimes lingering for longer than strictly needed. It was quiet and peaceful, both only speaking when they needed to, a comfortable silence lingering in the air.

 

Sam started to think that this is what he wanted his heaven to be like, relaxing and comfortable. Intimate, really, time passing with idle work. Between the two of them, they got everything seasoned, grilled and boiled that needed it, and wound up with two large plates of food. (Castiel had even scrounged up some old potatoes that were near forgotten about, still good to eat.)

 

“You choose the movie this time Sam,” Castiel said as they began walking back to the den, “I chose last time, here, I will take your food for you.”

 

Sam passed off his plate, but kept his drink in hand. It was an IPA from a small brewery in one of the towns they had visited, and while it wasn’t his favorite ale he’d ever had, it was better than the cold cans of Pabst that Dean had stocked up on during his last visit to the small gas-station mart on the outskirts of the city. Castiel hadn’t taken to the taste of beer at all, and carried a glass of water with him down the hall. Sam watched him retreat until he turned the corner, and then headed off to their collection of movies.

 

He rummaged around. They had an old VHS of the Truth about Cats and Dogs, which Dean had taken him to see in when he was in middle school. He remembered loving the movie, despite it being a rom-com, but mostly he remembered thinking the various animals in it were funny. In fact, he couldn’t recall much of the plot, and decided that this would be what they watched tonight. He just hoped the video player worked. It was so old -- who knew?

 

He stepped into the den and waved the video he was holding. “I hope you’re a fan of comedies. This one was an old favorite of mine.”

 

“I’m sure it will be sufficiently entertaining,” he said from his position sitting on the floor.

  
Sam flashed him a grin. “I’m sure it will be.” He walked over to the television, surprised to find the tape player already hooked up. He wondered if that had been Charlie’s doing, or if Dean had found some vintage porn videos that he needed to see.

 

“And no,” Sam said as he turned the various electronics on, sticking the tape into the mouth of the player, “you’re not watching the movie from the floor this time. I have to sit up to eat anyway, so you’re joining me on the couch.”

 

Castiel moved, unable to quickly find an argument. It wasn’t like he would dislike sitting next to Sam, anyway, he was only trying to be polite before. Both feet were planted firmly on the ground, his plate resting in his lap, fork in one hand, water in the other. He waited until Sam was finished before beginning to eat, but when Sam made his way over, grabbing his plate from where Cass had set it on the coffee table, he didn’t just sit next to Cass, he curled up, tucking his feet under himself and resting an elbow on the sofa’s arm, plate balancing between his knee and hand.

 

He looked at home there, and Castiel had to force himself to pull his eyes away, focusing on the television like he had done so before, earlier in the afternoon. Only it was more difficult this time because Sam was right there, he could see every movement he made from the corner of his eye, captivated by the small shifts, and tiny movements, occasionally skating his hand against the neck of his beer bottle, sometimes making noises with his fork against his plate.

 

Castiel remembered food, and that he was partially hungry, so he began to eat, surprised at how delicious this simple meal was. He kind of wished that Sam would cook like this all the time. He liked burgers and the various diners they all stopped at on the road, the quickly prepared meals that the brothers made in the bunker, but this was beyond comparison.

  
Sam said that Dean could cook surprisingly well when he put his mind to it, but Castiel found it in himself to doubt that he could create something as delicious as this. He wondered if it was a skill that Sam had picked up when he was on his own at Stanford. It would make sense, since he wasn’t sure when else he would have learned, certainly not as a child with the limited budget hunting allotted the Winchesters, and Cass could see no evidence of this being a regular occurrence between Sam and Dean before he got involved with their lives.

 

“This is very good, Sam,” he thought to tell him, remembering that it was important to give people positive reinforcement.

 

“Hmm?” Sam muttered, turning to him, apparently having been distracted by the movie, which is what they were supposed to be watching, anyway. “Oh, thank you,” he looked down at his own plate, “it’s one of my favorites to make, actually. Very simple, and a bit cliche I guess, but it tastes good.”

 

Humans oftentimes got embarrassed by compliments. Another thing Cass didn’t fully understand. But his heart ached when he saw Sam sheepishly examine the cooked food, unconsciously pushing some of the asparagus around.

 

The movie wasn’t bad, but he had barely been paying attention anyway, and he would much rather talk with Sam, so he asked, “where did you learn to make it?”

 

Sam laughed. “During my freshman year of college. I stayed in the dorms over winter break because, well, I had nowhere else to go. It means I stayed through Christmas too, so there weren’t a lot of other students around, but the ones that were there, we all decided that we should make a big Christmas dinner for ourselves.

 

“Our hall had this communal kitchen that you could check a key out for and then cook stuff there, but it was closed for the holidays. We weren’t supposed to use it because there wasn’t the same amount of supervision as normal, whatever,” he halfway rolled his eyes. “Anyway, one of the girls had nicked a set of keys at the beginning of the year, so we all just went shopping together and then snuck into the kitchen and made Christmas dinner. This was one of the dishes we cooked because it was easy and relatively cheap.”

 

Castiel couldn’t help but smile as Sam told his story. “It sounds like a good memory.”

 

“It was, yeah. It was fun.”

 

There had been a lot of laughter, a lot of dumb mistakes that had seemed hilarious at the time. One of the guys had gotten cocky and thought that they could cook a souffle, but that had ended up an undercooked mess (which they had eventually eaten anyway despite the weird consistency). It had been an odd mix of emotions for Sam, his first Christmas away from Dean. He had wanted to call his brother so badly, but at the same time… making a new life for himself, paving the way to a new future had been exhilarating and he was surrounded by people who he thought might be life-long friends.

 

“But this is fun too, you know,” he said, cocking his head and looking at Castiel, who had taken another bite. “Just different.”

 

Castiel looked down, taking a sudden interest in the food below him. This was different, yes, but was it fun? Certainly nothing with Sam and the apocalypse had been fun, getting chased around by Lucifer before the inevitable happened. Being locked in the cage for eons hadn’t been fun either, nor had dealing with the leviathans or anything that was going on now with the angels, Metatron and Abaddon, nothing.

 

Hearing Sam talk about his days at Stanford, comparing them to his life now, it made Cass yearn for a way to fix everything, and there was a hollow feeling inside where he felt as if this were his fault. All of heaven and hell’s meddling had ruined a life he could have had, and Castiel had been at the forefront of so much of the pain. Even though Stanford had been out of the equation for years before Castiel turned up, there had still been so much time for heaven to intervene.

 

It was an odd thought. That these two forces, supposedly the forces of good and evil, pitted against one another, had been working together to start a war that would not only have devastated the humans and all other animals that occupied earth, but would undoubtedly have wiped immeasurable amounts of forces from either side, no matter the victor.

 

Sometimes it seemed difficult to bear the responsibility of free will, but Castiel couldn’t imagine going back to the hive mind that the angels functioned with. He shuddered at the thought.

 

He didn’t know whether to apologize to Sam in that moment. He felt like he should. He wanted to tell him a million times over how sorry he was even though he knew that would never fix it, but he also didn’t want to remind him of all the bad he had been through. If this week was really a week to forget and let go, he didn’t want to soil it by reminding Sam that his life had drawn one of the worst straws possible.

 

So instead he just looked back at Sam and said, “I think I do understand. Games with the angels, being powerful, traveling wherever I wanted to go, interacting with others as I was, it was fun. But this is enjoyable as well. I value my time spend with you equally so.”

 

Sam was blushing again. He muttered, “thanks,” and made a point to turn back to the movie, which had been playing in the background of their conversation.

 

Castiel focused his attention on the screen as well, and worked on finishing the rest of his food. His appetite was a little less, but he still savored the taste, knowing it meant a bit more because Sam made it, and because of how Sam had acquired the recipe as well.

 

When he was finished with the food, he set his empty plate and glass on the coffee table, and pulled his legs up onto the couch, folding them next to his figure, mirroring Sam. The odd contortion felt relaxing in a way. He couldn’t explain why he felt ten times more at home in this position than stiff and rigid before. Another inexplicable human feeling he was experiencing.

 

He reached up and pulled at a blanket which was draped over the back of the couch. It came free and he wrapped it around himself, snuggling into the warm nest he had created. Sam had watched him once he realized what Cass was doing, and laughed at the cocooned man beside him. Castiel was definitely cute, hair messed up even more now that the static had rubbed against it, head poking out from the rolls of covers.

 

The movie was nearing its end, and Castiel wondered if grabbing the blanket had been a wise decision. He was now feeling warm and lazy, a haze of drowsy sleep comforting him, and just before the credits were about to roll, he could feel himself slipping from consciousness.

 

Sam gave a silent laugh as he fell asleep. If there was one thing that the angel hadn’t adjusted to, it was the warning signs of exhaust and the need for rest. He seemed to get tired all at once, oftentimes wearing himself out and able to fall asleep quickly, allowing fatigue to claim him.

 

They hadn’t done anything strenuous, but Sam understood the hypnotic effects a full stomach and a good (or at least passable) movie could have -- he had almost succumbbed to that earlier today. He wasn’t surprised that Castiel fell asleep, but he was surprised when his unconscious form slid down the back of the sofa, head coming to rest on the side of Sam’s thigh. He shifted so that Castiel would be more comfortable, and was surprised when the angel snuggled closer into the crease where his hip bent, nose touching the bone through a thin layer of fabric.

 

Sam bit his lip. He should wake Cass up, tell him to go to bed, or at least give him the privacy of the whole sofa. The movie was finished with, anyway, what was he still doing here? But he could feel the puffs of exhaled breath, warm and moist through the cotton, and Cass’ figure was so peaceful, the urge to stay here was so alluring.

 

Sam was instantly hard again, and he face-palmed, thinking that he really should have knocked one off after the incident earlier today.

 

He turned off the TV. Sitting here in his current state had to be all kinds of creepy and pervy and wrong, so he brought his hand up and pushed lightly at Castiel’s shoulder.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to be gentle, “you fell asleep. Cass?”

 

But he just murmured something unintelligible, and curled himself into an even smaller ball, closer to Sam, who almost moaned at the increase in contact.

  
Right. This needed to end, now. “Cass,” he said a little more forcefully, actually shaking him this time.

 

He woke up, slighting disoriented, and sat up suddenly, face inches away from Sam, cheeks beginning to warm. “Sorry,” he stuttered out, looking at the hunter, breathing a bit more heavily than he should have been.

 

“It’s fine,” Sam replied, equally breathless.

 

Castiel didn’t move away though. They sat there, staring at each other, exchanging air, neither wanting to move and unable to figure out what to say.

 

Sam could feel his palms beginning to sweat. He swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to force his mind to work, but it felt like navigating molasses. This was it, this was his opportunity, the kiss moment, cliche and stereotypical, and about as blatant an opening as he was ever going to get.

 

But was it an opening? Was Cass sitting there with as much desire as him, or was he just unsure of the human protocol for falling asleep on someone. It was so difficult to read him sometimes.

 

He didn’t think. If he had, he would have thought that it would be embarrassing, potentially catastrophic, dumb to think that Cass would ever say yes, could ever want him. He would know he was going crazy.

 

But he didn’t think, just asked quickly, no time to stumble over words, “can I kiss you?”

 

And Castiel barely finished nodding before Sam surged forward, placing a large hand on his neck, pulling him in to press their warm lips against each other, breath hitching.  He fell against the arm of the couch, sliding down and plastering Cass against him, holding onto him impossibly tight, making sure Castiel was comfortable between his legs and reveling at the feel of his weight on top of him.

 

Cass could feel himself shaking, from nerves, excitement, pure adrenaline rushing through his veins, Sam’s hot breath sending shivers down his spine, which didn’t make much sense, but he wasn’t going to sort that out now, he just wanted to kiss back, taste more and feel Sam’s tongue against his own, sucking slightly.

 

He moaned as Sam bit down on his lower lip. His hands twisting knots into his flannel, completely melting into Sam’s embrace.

 

This was new and exciting. Cass felt want and desire like he hadn’t with any other partner. It was hard to imagine that he was asleep moments before, because he was wide awake now, aware of every tingle of sensation his contact with Sam brought about, pressing his hips against Sam’s length, the hunter’s moan hitching as their clothed cocks rubbed against one another. Cass whimpered in response.

 

Sam leaned his head back against the arm or the couch, momentarily pulling away from Castiel, chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. His eyes were screwed shut, mouth parted, one hand gripped tight in Cass’ hair.

 

Cass smiled and bent slightly to place a chaste kiss against his lips before sliding down, peppering kisses against his jaw and licking a wide stripe down his neck.

 

“Fuck, Cass.”

 

He could see Sam’s adam's apple bob as he swallowed, and danced his tongue over the bump, just ghosting over his skin. Sam’s hand tightened in his hair, and he smiled as he heard him whisper another Cass under his breath, looking up to capture his lips once more.

 

They stayed just like that, sampling each other’s mouths and harmonizing their moans in time with their slow, seductive thrusts.

 

But Sam’s legs were folded at an odd angle, knees bent, one partially off the couch and he was pretty sure he was cutting off circulation to his feet.

 

“We should move,” he suggests between kisses.

 

Castiel pulls back to grin sheepishly at him. “It is a bit cramped here.”

 

He gracefully rolls off of Sam and stands, offering a hand to help haul him off of the sofa. Once on his two feet, the hunter made quite a show of stretching, fully extending his arms above his head, a sliver of skin showing above his briefs.

 

Castiel’s stomach twisted again, this time with apprehension and desire. It was this moment that he wished the human language could properly describe that strange feeling. It was a physical sensation close to nervousness or dread, yet completely different. He could live of the feeling Sam gave him. Hoped it would never go away.

 

He followed Sam out of the den, turning down the hallway in the direction of the hunter’s bedroom. Sam probably hadn’t thought of which room to head to, instead following instinct, but Castiel was just as happy padding over the soft, carpeted ground.

 

Sam didn’t decorate his room. There wasn’t much that was personal in the confined space, the grey concrete walls and old incandescent lamps felt cold and distant. He didn’t ever want to become too attached, afraid of what it might to do him if they ever left and afraid that he might somehow jinx their stay.

 

What he did keep in his room were necessities and Castiel liked the thought that he was now a necessity in Sam’s life, allowed to stay in his barren space.

 

“I hate to break the mood,” Sam said, turning around and pulling Castiel into a hug, “but maybe we should get ready for bed first. That way we don’t have to worry about it later.”

 

Castiel looked towards the door. Even though what Sam had said was perfectly reasonable, he didn't want to leave, afraid it would break some spell holding him here.

 

“I have spare everything if you don’t mind using my clothes.” Sam’s smile was timid. “I mean, only if you want.”

 

“I would like that very much”

 

Smiling, Sam reached out and tugged his tie loose, removing the strip of fabric and slinging it on top of the dresser beside Cass, bending down to give him a long, deep kiss.

 

He pulled away. “Put on whatever you think is comfortable. I’ll see if I can scrounge up the extra toothbrush I know I have hiding around here.”  
  


Castiel wordlessly turned towards the dresser, vaguely aware of Sam’s retreating form. Pulling open the top drawer revealed stacks of folded t-shirts. He rummaged around until he found a soft, worn one, old, but comfortable to sleep in.

 

After he pulled the fabric over his head he glanced down, surprised to find an odd version of a dog printed on the front. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Sam wear it before, but shrugged. The cotton was nice on his skin and the garment smelled like the fresh detergent Sam had begun to use regularly while staying here.

 

The next drawer was pants. Jeans, sweats, shorts all separated and put in their own place, neat and organized (as if he expected anything less from Sam). He selected a pair of grey sweatpants and laid them over the lip of wood before undoing the top button to his slacks and stepping out of the thick wool as they had fallen to the ground. He supposed he should change his underwear as well, but thought it was probably rude and strange and not normal to borrow someone else’s, so he pushed the pair he was currently wearing off and slipped into the sweatpants with nothing on underneath.

 

He rolled his shoulders and then headed towards the bathroom to join Sam.

 

“Hey! I haven’t seen that shirt in awhile,” he said, smiling, as he noticed Castiel entering through the doorway. He held up a basic, blue toothbrush, still encased in it’s plastic packaging, “found it.”

 

“Thank you, Sam.”

 

They didn’t talk while brushing their teeth, although Castiel supposed it would be difficult to, anyway. Instead they stood side by side, making occasional eye contact in the mirror, politely rinsing saliva down the drain every time they spit.

 

Rinse the brush, drink, gargle, whatever. They maneuvered around each other with ease as if they had been dancing this routine their whole lives and Sam liked, hell Sam loved, the idea of this, this placidity, becoming normal.

 

He guided their way back into his bedroom with his palm cupped on Cass’ lower back, just like earlier in the kitchen. He let out a huff of amused air at the thought of hours before having no clue that he would be kissing, holding, wrapping this marvelous creature between his arms. Castiel the angel, his angel… maybe. Sam could only hope, only dream, but somehow that outlandish fantasy didn’t seem quite as elusive anymore.

 

They broke apart when they reached the foot of his bed, each heading in a separate direction. Sam watched as Castiel clambered under the duvet and scooted towards the center of the mattress, quickly following so that they were entwined together, noses nearly touching.

 

Sam’s pillows were soft, like clouds, Cass thought, allowing the drowsy lull of sleep to damper his avid nerves and fluttering his eyes shut, but as he began to drift off, the tickle of Sam’s warm breath against his skin was enough to keep him awake. He opened his eyes just enough to watch the even rise of Sam’s chest, before tipping his head up to meet his lips.

 

He meant for it to be a brief peck, but the sweet taste of Sam’s mouth pulled him in, and soon they were kissing like mad, pressed so close to each other he thought they might melt into one.

 

“Cass,” he moaned, parting his lips wider in a dulcet invitation for more exploration and Castiel sunk his teeth into the delicate curve of Sam’s lip, tugging gently before releasing it and running the tip of his tongue feather-light over the red indentations left behind.

 

Another groan from Sam, and he noticed how tight his fists had knotted themselves into the back of Cass’ shirt, or rather his shirt that Castiel was wearing. God, that was hot. He thrust against the angel’s leg, and Cass tucked his head against his chest, squinting his eyes shut as he met every one with a fierce intensity, dragging his clothed erection against Sam’s.

 

They felt perfect, sliding against one another, Castiel couldn’t remember another time he had been close to this turned on, desperately pressing against Sam, and Sam was big. Without looking he could feel the length nestle beside his own, each movement wrecking Cass, his shirt beginning to ride up as they moved.

 

Sam let go of Cass’ shirt to allow his hands to wander down his back, fiddling with the bottom of the purple hem before slipping his large fingers beneath the thin fabric, splaying his hands wide against his spine.

 

They were warm and breathing heavily. Cass relished the rough palms of Sam’s calloused hands, mapping out his skin as his own fingers wound themselves through Sam’s hair, tugging gently when a knee slid between his leg, a firm thigh nudging at his balls. Sam’s head tilted back with the force, exposing the small hollow of his neck. Castiel bent forward, tongue just grazing over the pocket of skin before sucking a purple mark, eliciting stuttered breaths from Sam who only gripped him tighter.

 

“Cass, Cass,” Sam chants in a barely audible whisper.

 

Cass smiles and drags Sam’s head back towards him, lips brushing against his as he growls out, “I love hearing you say my name, Sam.”

 

Their eyes lock and Sam holds their gaze for a fraction of a second before smirking. “Oh, Castiel.”

 

He whines and resumes a steady grind against Sam. His breathing hitched and he recognizes himself nearing the brink, hoping the gorgeous hunter with him was just as close, small whimpers, ghosts of moans escaping his lips.

 

“Sam,” a gasp, “Sam, I-”

 

“Yeah?”

 

And a palm winds its way down from Cass’ back, between their forms, stroking gently up and down Castiel’s cock, still outside of Sam’s sweats, and with a strangled cry he comes ropes of pearl white in his pants, latching onto Sam’s mouth in the process, pulling an orgasm out of him as well, thrusting the last of the sensitivity out before a wave of heavy sleep begins to overtake them.

 

And they should get up and change, at least trade out pajama bottoms, but they’re snoring before either could think, still tangled in each other’s limbs, Cass tucked neatly under his Hunter’s chin.

 


	3. In Which Sam Gets Cass A Bit Dirty (Literally)

 

CHAPTER THREE: IN WHICH SAM GETS CASS A LITTLE BIT DIRTY (LITERALLY)

 

The bunker was mostly underground -- easier to hide large, secret facilities when they don’t take up any visible space. The amount of sunlight that penetrated through the few small windows, high and near the ceilings, was limited, especially in the winding hallways that mapped out the deeper sections of the building. But the Men of Letters wired so many lamps and bulbs throughout the facility that the lack of natural light was hardly noticeable during the day when the electricity was running, switches already turned on. However, mornings could be awful dark.

 

One of the reasons Sam likes his room is because of a pale-yellow and green stained glass decoration to the left of his bed that streams sunbeams over his bed in the morning. The warm colors remind him of summer fields or mossy forests, the dappled patterns waking him gently every time he slept here.

 

Today the dancing reflections were even more beautiful because they played across the sunning face of Castiel, still asleep next to him. A glance at the old, wood clock on the wall told him it was a little past six in the morning. Bending down and kissing the tip of his angel’s nose, he snuggled further into the warm cocoon of blankets they had folded around themselves in the night

 

Next to Cass he was happy, but even more so he was safe, not remembering a time he had felt more secure and soon found himself drifting off again to the serene peace of sleep.

 

He awoke again just before nine and smiled, nudging Cass gently, who groaned and buried his head further into Sam’s chest, squinting his eyes shut in an attempt to block out any hint of light. It was adorable, but for what Sam had in mind, they needed to wake up.

 

He leaned back to place a firm kiss on his forehead, and chuckled. “Wake up sleepy.”

 

“Sam, this is supposed to be our vacation,” he muttered, remaining firmly planted between Sam’s arms.

 

“Yes, and we’re going to go to the little farmers market they have here. I saw a sign for it in the grocery store yesterday, but they close shop at around one or two in the afternoon, so we better get going if we want to see everything.

 

“Okay,” Castiel conceded, making no effort to move.

 

“Alright,” Sam groaned, flipping Castiel onto his back and hovering over his slight frame.

 

He winced as the flaky come, dry since last night, chafed against his boxers. “We need a shower,” he stated, bending down to give Castiel a slow kiss before pulling away far too soon for the angel’s liking.

 

Sam clambered out of the bed and crossed the room, removing his sleep-wear and tossing the items in a mesh hamper stored in a corner of the room.

 

“You’re welcome to join me,” he said, a large smile plastered on his face as he looked at Castiel, who had once again buried himself under the covers, the only identifying factor being the large lump in the center of his mattress.

 

He sauntered into the bathroom and Cass groaned, screwing his eyes shut one last time before opening them to the brilliant light of morning -- the adjustment from night still new to his human senses.

 

He didn’t want to get out of bed, especially because it was Sam’s bed and he thinks that if angels got their own slice of heaven, Castiel’s would be last night, swathed with warmth and plush. Leaving the bed felt like leaving that behind and Castiel grasped at the memory as if it were a rapidly fading dream that he wanted to remember.

 

The water turned on in the bathroom and he could hear the hiss of it through the pipes. He sighed because he did need a shower, and a shower with Sam sounded much more pleasant than a shower alone, which is what he would be taking if he waited much longer.

 

He extracted himself from the duvet, which was a bit more of a process than he had been expecting. Last night he had somehow managed to wrap an end completely around a leg and he nearly tripped in the process of standing up.

 

Castiel was definitely not a morning person.

 

He walked towards the hamper, wishing he had his powers back simply so that he could snap himself clean. Oh well. He pulled off the odd shirt and shucked off his pants, pausing momentarily with them in his hand. He could see the faded white-streaks of come that had painted the insides of the fabric, and felt a moment of nostalgia at the stained garment. The thought was gross and very human. He rolled his eyes. Gripping the sweats tight before firmly depositing them in the hamper, he shuffled into the bathroom and silently stepped into the shower behind Sam, skating forward to slip his hands around his torso, inhaling the damp musk of his skin, nose pressed against his back.

 

“Hey Cass,” he said softly, turning around to face Castiel, taking care not to break contact. “I was beginning to worry that you really weren’t going to join me.

 

“It was a battle well fought with sleep.”

 

Sam laughed at that and squeezed Cass close to him before releasing him and stepping under the hot spray of water, rinsing the strawberry scented shampoo from his hair.

 

Light pink suds cascaded down Sam’s body, following the trail of muscle definition past his chest and arms, abs and legs, a wet sheen already coating his skin. He reached forward and allowed his fingers to follow the path those soapy bubbles lead, tanned skin twitching under his touch. However instead of parting at the wild curl of pubic hair, Castiel simply threaded his fingers through the dark patch leading down.

 

Sam made out a cut off moan of something, eyes shut under the shower of water, unable to see Cass and he sunk to his knees, nose inches away from Sam’s hardening cock.

 

His index finger ran across the base, tracing the outline of a faint vein. He leaned forward and paused a fraction of a moment, a puff of air across Sam’s skin before sucking the smooth head into his mouth, tonguing gently at his slit.

 

Sam’s hand flew down, knotting his hand in Cass’ unruly hair with a gasp. His eyes flew open and he found himself falling back against the porcelain tiles that lined the shower, knees weak, Castiel’s head slowly sinking lower, his wet tongue working magic every inch.

 

The angel pulled back with a hard suck, licking the stray line of saliva that had leaked down his chin. His hand still moved up and down Sam’s hard length, who looked down at him through hooded eyes, his breathing heavy.

 

“You taste like soap.”

 

“Mmph,” was the only reply as a fingertip ghosted over the curved edge of his head.

 

“It’s not a pleasant taste.”

 

“Jesus Cass, you don’t have to-”

 

“I don’t mind,” he quipped before sinking his lips over Sam once again, swallowing until the push of his cock slid down his throat, airway constricting against the intrusion.

 

Cass shut his eyes, trying to repress the urge to gag, instead swiping his tongue along that vein, focusing on the mewling hints of moans that Sam probably wasn't even aware he was making. But as his eyes began to water, he pulled off suddenly, kneeling back and coughing twice.

 

Sam knelt down next to him, pulling a hand to Cass’ cheek, gripping firmly. “Hey, Cass. You alright.”

 

Cass chuckled. “Yes. I’m not used- I didn’t feel the human gag reflex when I was an angel. Since we don’t need oxygen-”  
  


Sam gave a brief chuckle and pulled him into a sloppy, wet kiss, the shower spray beading against their bodies from their position on the floor.

 

“It’s okay,” Sam reasoned, tilting his head as he pulled back from Castiel. “There’s lots of time to practice.”

 

He stood up and offered his hand down to help Cass, but the angel just shook his head, droplets of water flinging off his hair and mixing with the rest of the hot spray.

 

“You still need to finish yourself off,” a mischievous grin appeared on his face, hands tracing lightly over Sam’s balls, tight with arousal. “Might as well do it in the shower where I can easily clean myself.”

 

He adjusted himself so that he was fully facing Sam, still on his knees in front of the tall man. “I can get a good view from here.”

 

The fallacy of innocence that the angel wore had Sam leaning against the shower wall, once again unable to fully support himself as he reached his own hand down, stroking his length, beginning to lightly thrust into the tight warmth of his own palm, a motion similar to him, this location all too familiar.

 

But faint touch of Castiel’s fingertips mapping out the skin of his sac reminded him that he had another person here with him, watching every twist or squeeze of his hand against his dick, the pull of foreskin along his shaft. And hell, the thought of an angel, pure with or without his grace, kneeling in front of him, more than a just fantasy, was an erotic experience outside of what he could ever have imagine, precome leaking from his head as he gasped for what little oxygen surrounded them in the steamy room.

 

“May I?” the angel asked, leaning forward to dart his tongue out, licking a brief stripe of precome into his mouth.

 

And as soon as Sam felt the rough tip of pink against him, he came, white stripes painting Castiel’s face, marking his left cheek and the corner of his eye, a couple drops reaching his forehead and streaking his hair.

 

Sam looked down at his come covered Cass and gripped his wrist, pulling him up into a bruising kiss, smelling his own musk against his skin. He pulled them both under the spray, reaching behind him to grab the bottle of shampoo and offer it to Cass who gladly took it, opening the cap with a resounding pop.

 

Sam kissed his cheek and maneuvered around him. “I should look up directions. You can finish up in here and we’ll both be ready to go by the time you’re dressed.”

 

Cass nodded, and poured a generous amount of shampoo on his hand, watching Sam leave from the corner of his eye.

 

Sam pulled on clothing without much thought, unable to wipe away the perpetual grin that he wore. Just yesterday he had been trying to hide his affections and rein in his emotions, but today… today they had been unabashedly intimate and there was no longer any question as to Castiel’s intentions towards him. No mixed signals anymore.

 

He pulled out an extra set of towels, the softest he had, and quietly padded into the bathroom to hang them up for Cass when he was finished. The angel didn’t even hear him, and he left just as quietly, taking extra care to shut the door without a sound before taking off.

 

Everything in the bunker seemed brighter, warmer. He walked through the wood decorated interiors and past intricate furniture, noticing how everything seemed a bit more welcoming. The laptop was kept in a canvas bag which he slipped next to a plush, maroon arm-chair that was halfway obscured in a corner. It was a nice place to relax, slightly separated from the main rooms, but still easy to find if someone needed him.

 

He sat down, curled up and pulled the computer into his lap, opening the screen so that the bright blue welcome light flashed in front of him. The desktop loaded.

  
When Sam got his first laptop after heading to college, he didn’t bother changing the wallpaper. It didn’t matter, out of everything that was happening in his life the blank computer screen wasn’t a bother at all. The first time he had made a change was when he started seeing Jess. They went hiking and she took a disposable camera with her to snap pictures of whatever nature struck her fancy. After a couple hours they had run into another young couple who had offered to take a picture of them smiling under a cedar tree, sweat-soaked hair sticking to their foreheads and dirt smudges on their faces. It turned out to be Sam’s favorite photo, and once Jess had gotten the roll developed, he wasted no time in scanning the picture so that he was reminded of their smiling faces everytime he used his computer.

 

It stayed that picture until she died. Sam eventually got a new laptop, and the default desktop remained. Besides -- it wasn’t like Dean and him took many pictures as they were hunting. Usually when they were photographed it was bad news. But Sam had one. An online blog had managed to get a picture of him and Cass after they had gotten rid of a ghoul. Of course, to everyone else it just looked like they had shot a serial killer and graverobber, but either way the small town in Arkansas hailed them as heroes.

 

Dean had already slunk away with a girl (or two, he couldn’t remember), so when Sam and Cass were ambushed by an ‘independent internet news reporter’ jonesing for a unique scoop, the pair just shrugged their shoulders and indulged the young man, allowing him to get a picture of them side by side.

 

Sam successfully found the article later that evening, and had the link bookmarked ever since. He pulled the page up, smiling at the memory, and saved the photograph to a temporary folder. A couple of clicks thought his settings later, a picture of him and Castiel, humorously stone-faced, looked back at him.

 

He probably wouldn’t keep it past that week -- he couldn’t imagine what Dean would say if he used the computer like this, but it brought a small amount of comfort to have a small declaration of their love blatantly displayed.

 

He looked for a second longer before pulling up the web browser and typing in the address for the farmers market, zoning out as the faint hissing of water through the pipes ran behind him.

 

Castiel turned the nozzle off, ceasing the shower’s stream and stepping out of the pebbled glass enclosure. He truned to the wall where a silver bar was attached and smiled at the extra set of fluffy white towels that Sam had left out for him.

 

They felt like heaven against his skin, which was saying something since he used to call that pure dimension home. Instead he groaned into the washcloth that he was wiping across his face and rubbed his eyes before pulling back and glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

 

It was strange to think of himself as an angel and yet… He was so at home in this body. It almost surprised him how unsurprising it was to find those striking blue eyes staring back at him. He has spent thousands of years as nothing more perceptible than a brief wave through the human radar, yet had adjusted to a human body, full of awkward limbs and strange handicaps, in only a few.

 

Sighing, he tossed the washcloth in the corner of the bathroom and tied the larger towel around his waist, securing it tightly before walking into Sam’s bedroom and heading for the door. It didn’t matter that he had fallen from heaven when he had already fallen so hard for Sam.

 

He opened it and wasn’t surprised to be greeted by an empty hallway, so he turned down the thin passage and strolled to his room, shutting the door behind him more out of habit than anything else. His suit and tie were currently discarded in Sam’s room, but his overcoat was folded nicely on his bed. Once he had tossed on a t-shirt and jeans, he was able to pull the brown piece over his shoulders, resuming his signature look.

 

He glanced in a mirror once more before leaving his room. He had never been particularly self conscious before. He didn’t particularly feel self conscious right now, it was just that some pull inside of him wanted Sam to be swept away everytime he laid eyes on him, just how he felt everytime he saw Sam.

 

He knew what room Sam was going to be in. It was a couple doors down from the library once you had entered the cement lined hallway it connected to. The space was probably originally an office, but it currently held a couple book shelves with knick-knacks scattered throughout the long planks of wood, a fireplace that was severely underutilized and a large, plush armchair which Castiel assumed was Sam’s favorite considering how many times he had found the hunter curled asleep in it, a book splayed open against his chest.

 

The room was small, but decorated in the same warm tones as the rest of the living areas in the bunker. Castiel knew that Sam kept his laptop in there. He didn’t hide that fact, but Dean had no idea, choosing to remain blissfully unobservant most of the time.

 

Castiel didn’t have to knock, the door was already swung open, but he didn’t step into the room. Something about it was Sam’s and even though he had just shared his bed, Castiel felt a twinge at the thought of intruding on this particular space.

 

So instead he stepped into the doorway and leaned to the side so that his shoulder was touching the finished oak frame.

 

“How much more time to you require?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle him.

  
Sam jumped anyway, looking up and rapidly trying to calm a rising blush he felt on his cheeks. “I’m finished now if you’re ready to go,” he said, closing his laptop in the process and placing it back into it’s bag.

 

He stood up and Cass nodded, waiting for Sam to reach the doorway before turning around to walk out behind him.

 

It was a good temperature, mostly warm, but when the breeze picked up some people decided to shrug on jackets, so Castiel didn’t look out of place in his coat. They walked a couple blocks from the secluded area of the bunker before Sam stopped on a rather nondescript corner.

 

“I called a cab,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar habit that Cass had started noticing. “I know we could steal a car, but,” he shrugs, “I didn’t really see a point.”

 

Castiel nodded at him in understanding. “I think it is admirable that you still avoid breaking laws when reasonable.”

 

Sam huffed and scuffed a foot on the pavement below. Hunters regularly broke all kinds of rules, so yeah, it was pretty much an ingrained part of his livelyhood at this point, but he didn’t see the need to take the risk of getting caught or perhaps cause someone to unnecessarily worry about an absent truck, when they were taking a week to themselves and could just as easily be luxuriously driven to any location by a third party.

 

“Anyway, I told them to pick us up here.” Sam checked his phone. They were supposed to text when they were close, but a message hadn't pinged yet.

 

They stood in companionable silence for a few more moments before Castiel spoke up. “I don’t think stealing a car would fit in with our week of normality.”

 

Sam laughed at this. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it up to check the flashing message. “Although, I’m not sure that taking a cab to a farmers market is normal either.”

 

Sure enough, the message was from Speedy Taxi Co. informing them that their car was currently approaching.

 

“We could have taken public transportation,” Sam continued, “but it would have taken forever and I thought there were other ways we could spend our time.”

 

He reached out and tugged Cass forward,  giving him a brief kiss as the taxi pulled up to the side of their curb. He walked over to the yellow car and pulled open the door, gesturing to Castiel to get in.

 

He slid into the leather seats with a brisque, “thank you Sam,” and smiled at the hunter when he clambered in beside him, legs slightly too long for the cramped seating. He suppressed a giggle.

 

They rode in a comfortable silence. Luckily the taxi driver didn’t try to make conversation during their short ride. Castiel looked out the window watching the small-town scenery slowly move. Sam took his hand and threaded their fingers together, giving him a light squeeze and smiling when Cass looked over at the sudden contact.

 

The angel squeezed back, unable to suppress a gentle smile in response. Sam was appreciative of this gesture of intimacy and silently thanked whoever he needed to that Cass was here and, at least for the moment, his.

 

Eventually they rounded the corner of a blocked-off side street and the cab pulled to the side. Sam thanked the driver, handing over some crumpled bills and stepping out of the car, Castiel following suit on the other side.

 

“I figured we’d just call the company again for one back.”

 

Castiel nodded and began walking towards the market, hand outstretched in an invitation for Sam to take it once more.

 

They padded down the cracked asphalt observing the first couple booths which were people preparing fresh-cooked food, and Sam pulled them towards a seating area to glance at all the menus. Castiel’s stomach grumbled and he settled his other hand over it briefly. It was momentarily sedated by the smell of breakfast burritos wafting towards them.

 

“I’m going to order,” he told Sam before loosening his grip on their hands amd slipping away toward a burly man who was cooking.

 

The guy smiled as he was approaching and asked him how he was doing.

 

“Good,” came Castiel’s short reply.

 

“What can I get ‘chya?”

 

“Could I order one of the burritos?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“I’ll have one as well.” Sam’s voice floated over as he walked up and paused behind Cass, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I figured it would be an easy food to carry as we browsed the rest of the market,” he murmured in explanation towards Castiel.

 

“You two together?” the man asked, fingers hovering over the worn buttons on the cash register.

 

“Absolutely,” Sam replied with a smile.

 

Castiel didn’t know if Sam realized that the man had been talking about their total, not whether they were together in the human sense of a couple, but either way the money was coming from the same place.

  
Castiel nodded to affirm this and the numbers were accordingly punched in. He quickly handed over the correct amount of change, bills worn but not crumpled like Sam’s had been earlier. After the man had taken the money, they stepped to the side to wait for their food.

 

Cass assumed that him and Sam were together anyway. He supposed that technically they hadn’t discussed it, but he saw no indication otherwise. And if Sam’s possessive claim over him hadn’t been indication enough…

 

“Sam?” Castiel said, voice reverberating with a hint of a question.

 

“Yeah Cass?”

 

“Do you consider us together? A human couple?”

 

Sam swallowed. He could feel his stomach plummeting as if someone had ripped up the bottom. He quickly attempted to calm himself, rationally realizing that he was probably over reacting, but for a moment he feared that he had overstepped his assumption that Castiel wanted out of this the same thing as he had expected after their first kiss.

 

He cleared his throat before answering. “I do.”

 

“Good,” was Castiel’s only response and that made Sam smile, wrapping his arms around the smaller man for a brief hug and a quick kiss on his cheek. And if Cass went a bit pink from the gesture, no one commented.

 

They strolled through the market, nibbling at their breakfast as they went. They accepted samples of locally made food and examined strange vegetable they had never seen before -- even buying a few, laughing about experimenting in the kitchen later.

 

It was lazy and relaxed and Sam found that it was so easy to reach out and take Castiel’s hand when it was free, swinging beside his frame. The market even had live music playing at one point, band sheltered under a white tent, and when Sam sat in one of the sturdy, plastic chairs, he pulled Cass into his own lap before the angel could find his own seat.

 

He smiled, settling into Sam’s arms as they wound around his waist, lowering his hands to that they clasped against Sam’s and swayed ever so slightly to the upbeat folk tune that was being played.

 

“They sound good,” Sam muttered to him, leaning forward so that his breath tickled the skin on his neck.

 

Castiel leaned into the touch. “They do.”

 

A couple songs later, the performance was over and Sam was calling the cab company to pick them back up. Both of them were carrying bags laden with their purchases, and Castiel muttered something about Dean being unimpressed when he found out how they had spent their money -- surely he would think it was a waste.  
  
Sam laughed. “Maybe we’ll just have to eat all of it before he comes back.”

  
Castiel looked incredulously at their arms. “I think you’re overestimating our appetites.”

 

“We’ll see,” Sam said with a kiss to Cass’ cheek.

 

Not five minutes later their cab arrived, and the were once more on their way back to the bunker (or rather, back to a street near the bunker that they would then walk to). The driver was nice enough, commenting on the vegetables they had and making idle conversation about their plans for the rest of the day, but Sam was glad when they arrived, eager to start on their afternoon plans together.

 

The walk from their taxi drop-off to the bunker was short, and since the two of them walked at a brisk pace, they were at the front door in no time, Sam only rooting through his pockets for a short time to find their keys.

 

Stepping into the bunker, they shed their outer layers and walked further into their home, Sam heading straight for the kitchen to put away what they bought, Cass following close behind.

 

“Have you noticed that little trail that starts back behind this place in those woods?” Sam asks Cass as he rounds the corner of the counter, sitting on one of the stools.  
  


“Yes.”

 

“Dean and I kind of checked it out when we first found it, just to make sure that it didn’t lead anywhere nefarious or to double check that we wouldn’t accidentally run into hikers. Anyway,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s pretty remote. Actually, it leads to a great lookout point, kind of a grassy clearing, but it’s not maintained so there are some wildflowers and the plants aren’t mowed back.”

 

He glanced up at Castiel who was still listening, nodding for him to continue.

 

“Dean and I didn’t stay long, and it was, you know, day, but, it’s a bit of a hike, which could be fun, and it seems like it would be an amazing place to stargaze, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

 

He could feel a blush rising to his cheeks, suddenly self conscious and timid about his suggestion. He continued rambling as if unable to stop. “I mean, we could bring a blanket with us and some food, like a little picnic. It’s just, I don’t know, cheesey, I know, but-”

 

He was cut off with a light kiss from Castiel, jumping a fraction in surprise. His angel pulled back, smiling. “That sounds wonderful, Sam.”

 

He grinned, relief washing through his veins. “Awesome. We should probably head out while it’s still light so we can see where we’re going, but it doesn’t have to be soon. Late afternoon would work and that way we wouldn’t have to wait too long to see the stars.”

 

Standing up, they began to put away the food, most of it being shelved in the refrigerator or placed to the side of their counter. It took all of Castiel’s restraint to wait until they were finished before pulling Sam into a tight embrace, tugging his head down so that their lips slotted together.

 

It was hot like fire, but addicting in a way that Castiel had never experienced before. Ever since returning to the bunker that day, he had been acutely aware of Sam’s presence and heat, wanting dearly to pick up from where they left off last night, or this morning, any time that has resulted in Sam’s hands on his body.

 

Those glorious hands, large, palms flattening against the small of his back, and Castiel had thought that he was more attracted to them than he had any right to be, reveling every time Sam had clasped them around his own that day, sending shivers down his spine.

 

Sam moaned into his mouth, opening for his tongue which had been licking across their lips, begging for entrance into that wet heat and Castiel’s breath came even more ragged now, clutching onto the fabric of Sam’s shirt trying to pull him even closer than they already were.

 

Sam stumbled forward, causing Castiel to become sandwiched between his body and the marble counter behind them, Sam’s hand protecting him from the sharp jab at his back.

 

He knew his jeans would be obscenely talented if he pulled back, but as it was he simply relished in the rough friction between their bodies, Sams length grinding against his own.

 

He loosened one of his hands to that it could rub between them, pride bubbling up when Sam bucked into the contact, a hand quickly moving to tangle in his short locks, and tugging at them, pulling another moan from his mouth.

 

“Fuck, Cass, what you do to me when you sound like that,” was murmured against his neck as Sam decided to lavish his tongue over the sensitive skin of his collar.

 

He was gripped tightly, suddenly finding himself lifted onto the counter and pushed back so that he was laying down, legs dangling off the end. His hand slipped from Sam’s erection and instead lifted to remove his shirt as Sam began to undo his jeans, quickly pulling the garments down, leaving Castiel fully naked and exposed.

 

“You are so sexy,” Sam smiled, before leaning down to give a tentative suck at the head of his dick.

 

He jerked up into the warm mouth, relishing the rough tongue that worked over his crown, played with the vein underneath his shaft. It was messy with spit dripping everywhere, but Castiel just continued to thrust into the tight ribbing of Sam’s throat, taking him easily as if he were born to do this.

 

His thrusts became erratic, and as Sam reached up to play with his sac, he could feel his balls tensing up to come, but before he could find that sweet release, Sam pulled of, licking and nipping his way down, lightly sucking at his taint before finding the puckered opening of his ass, breathing out a warm exhale onto the sensitive flesh.

 

This time a whimper escaped his lips as he thrust up into nothingness, silently begging Sam for contact. Very lightly, almost as if by accident a light flick of the tip of his tongue darted out, leaving a trail of shiny wet after it.

 

“Sam,” was groaned in frustration, and that was all the invitation needed to get the full flat of a tongue lavishing his rim, occasionally dipping in and tugging at his edges. The feeling of Sam’s saliva seeping into his hole shouldn’t have been as arousing at it was, but damn it Cass wanted more as he writhed on the cool counter, thrusting up, grinding into Sam’s face.

 

Finally, and Cass didn’t know how he didn’t come from first contact, the pad of Sam’s finger was rubbing at his entrance, slick with the spit that was now running down his crack. It pushed through, and crooked, rubbing _there_ , and Castiel keened into the sensation of pleasure and yes and, “more, Sam, please, more.”

 

There was a deep chuckle and a final suck at his hole before Sam pulled away, finger still buried in him. He leaned up to meet Cass’ mouth before he could protest, and pulled Castiel into an embrace, the angel’s legs wrapping around his waist so that he was easily lifted, one arm splayed across his back to offer support, the other’s digit still carefully in him, lightly jostling as Sam began to walk to his room.

 

“I figured having a bed would be easier,” Sam explained against his lips, but Castiel was far from coherent speech, instead focusing on devouring Sam’s mouth, tasting himself on those lips. It was intoxicating and more than he ever could have fantasised on his own.

 

He was finally set down on the soft bed, finger withdrawn, whimpering at the loss of contact, Sam pulling away completely and stepping back, making his way to the dresser where, in the corner of the bottom drawer, he kept a bottle of lube that… geez, he hoped hadn’t expired.

 

Quickly checking, he found that no, there were still a couple months left, and turned back to face Castiel who was lightly toying with his puffy rim. He groaned at the side, cock hardening further, even more uncomfortable against the zipper of his jeans and didn’t think twice about undoing the fastening and shlucking them off, leaving himself clad in gingham boxers and a loose tee.

 

Walking over towards the bed, clambering onto the mattress, he quickly dropped to all fours, making himself comfortable in the vee of Castiel’s legs so that his face was one more nestled near the thatch of black pubic hair that covered Cass.

 

He licked around Castiel’s fingers, still tight against his hole, and popped the cap on the lube with as much finesse as he could muster while his nose was buried in Cass’ musk.

 

Cass moaned, shifting so that his fingers sunk into Sam’s mouth, rubbing over his tongue and wetting his lips. He was so focused on the licks and sucks against his fingertips, he didn’t notice Sam had slicked his own fingers with the clear jelly until they were once more pressing at his entrance slowly working their way inside him, holy shit Sam was inside him.

 

He pulled his fingers from his mouth, quickly wrapping them around the base of his cock, desperate to stave off his orgasm, especially since Sam’s tongue had wandered down to join his fingers, thrusting into Cass’ hole, massaging at his walls.

 

“S-am,” his breath hitched as another pass of fingers grazed at his prostate. He managed to bend forward and grip the collar of Sam’s shirt, pulling him up so that their mouths met, Sam’s large frame hovering over him as he fell back into the pillows at the head of his bed.

 

“I want you in me,” he said, trying to concentrate through the small thrusts Sam’s fingers were still making, “and I don’t mean your hands.”

 

Sam groaned at that, hips bucking of their own accord, and he quickly yanked his boxers down, careful not to tangle them in his legs before kicking them over the bed and settling between Castiel.

 

He pulled his fingers from Cass’ hole, taking time to cover himself with lube and pressing his mushroomed head against the heat of Castiel’s entrance, slowly thrusting forward.

 

It was Cass who bucked up at the contact, sheathing him completely and groaning at the sensation of being full and of being full with Sam.

 

“Christ, Cass,” he gasped, nearly collapsing over the smaller man, face buried in the crook of his neck. Another groan and he began to circle his hips. “You feel so good, so warm and tight around me,” he gave a tentative thrust and Castiel moaned beneath him, shifting so that he could meet every movement, and they soon moved in time with each other, kissing with a sense of unexpected desperation.

 

They spead up, the sound of skin slapping against itself filling the room. Sam could feel the familiar curl of release as his movements became harsher, rutting into Castiel.

 

A strangled sound escaped his throat and he gasped out, “Cass, I’m gonna-”

 

“Yes,”

 

“Mmph,” he bit down against the skin of Cass’ shoulder and he thrust up a final time, burying himself deep, balls pressed against Castiel’s skin as he emptied himself inside the angel.

 

As the warm gush of come filled him, Sam’s hand wound its way down to Castiel’s throbbing cock, stroking him to completion, a moment behind, splattering his bare stomach with white, some sticking to the sweat damp fabric of Sam’s shirt which he had never removed.

 

Sam slid off, but clutched him tightly to his chest, so that they wound up side by side, facing each other as Sam’s slowly softening dick began to slip out of his hole along with the first slide of come.

 

Sam discarded his soiled shirt, and pulled a blanket over them before wiggling up to Castiel again, hand trailing down his crack, before slipping between his cheeks and lightly feeling the puffed hole.

 

Cass shivered with sensitivity, but the gentle strokes felt nice, and he soon found himself relaxing into the soft rhythm, breathing deeply against Sam, who had him tucked against his chest.

 

“My come leaking from your hole is one of the sexiest things.”

  
Castiel blushed, and squeezed his cheeks together in response, causing Sam to laugh, pulling his hand away from Castiel’s entrance and wrapping him as tightly as he could manage in his arms.

 

“I love you,” he murmured, halfway hoping that Cass was too far gone to hear him.

 

But of course, that wasn’t the case. Castiel stilled at the declaration, hardly trusting his own ears. In some respects love, to angels, was different than the emotion that humans often described: a light-headed ecstasy that overrode all senses. For the longest time he thought that although he loved earth, his father, humanity and all sorts of other things in existence, he would never truly understand the deep seated love of human fairytales.

 

But being with Sam was like opening the door to a whole ‘nother side of himself that he never imagined existing, and his heartfelt need to care for the hunter, that seemed to override any other instinct in his body, was a love more pure than he ever expected to have.

 

The idea that Sam could return even a fraction of this affection was overwhelming, that of all people he’s ever met, he feels that way about a broken, fallen angel that has irreparably messed with his live was-

 

He felt his chest seize up, and he pulled away from the warm body against him, looking up into Sam’s eyes. “I love you too,” was what he said, only because he was unable to communicate more.

  
Sam ducked down to kiss him, pulling back with a long breath. “Thank God, I was worried-” he cut off, unable to express in words the twisted path his mind had taken. He exhaled and nuzzled into Cass who returned the sentiment, tangling their legs together.

 

They stayed like that, both relaxed in each other’s presence until their stomachs started rumbling. Laughing at the obtrusive sounds, they forced themselves up, Sam gathering clean clothing from his dresser, Castiel heading towards the bathroom for a quick rinse.

 

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he said with a peck to Sam’s cheek, who smiled and nodded in return.

 

The sun, just barely beginning to set, was casting a darker orange glow through the bunker. As Sam walked through the central archway, he noted Castiel’s discarded clothing in a pile on the floor. He chuckled, kicking it to the side as he passed and continued into the kitchen where he selected a particularly ripe banana, quickly peeling it, stuffing it his mouth to sait his temporary hunger.

 

They were going to eat now, before hiking, so he decided to choose dessert oriented foods to bring with them for their picnic. Fresh strawberries, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, apple slices, pretty much every romantic food one could think of was packed away in a small backpack to hike in with.

 

He even remembered to slide in a bottle of wine, managing to get it all packed away before Cass returned, hair slightly damp from his shower, dressed in a new change of clothes, immediately eyeing the backpack.

 

“It has dessert in it, once we get to our destination.”  
  
Castiel accepted a peck on his cheek and tried to peek into the backpack, but his hand was quickly smacked away by Sam.

 

“No looking. Do you have something in mind for dinner though?”

 

“I’m fine with anything, as long as it does not take much preparation. I am eager to get out.”

 

“Me too,” he responded, smiling back. “Do sandwiches work?”

  
Castiel nodded.

 

“Great.”

 

Preparing the simple dinner took longer than it should have, Sam pulling Cass in for kisses whenever the opportunity presented itself, and Castiel occasionally copping feels. They exchanged light conversation and helped each other with cleanup before heading out.

 

Castiel plucked his overcoat off the ground and followed behind Sam, sun setting further behind the hill. They walked around to the side of the road where a small, barely-there dirt path ran up the incline.

 

Sam smiled back and offered his hand.

 

“I’m not sure that contact will make this walk easier,” Castiel pointed out.

 

“It might make it more fun,” Sam suggested, although he pulled his hand back, not wanting Castiel to feel obligated, and began hiking up the trail, squeezing past the line of bushes that kept the trail obscured.

 

Sam was never one for excessive amounts of PDA. He didn’t mind hand holding or kissing, but never felt an overwhelming urge to just because, but this whole day with Cass had just been… he couldn’t describe it. Ever since Castiel had admitted having feelings for Sam, he never seemed to want to let him go, almost as if he didn’t believe that he could be this lucky. He wanted to savor every moment with him, just incase it was taken away another day.

 

He didn’t want to get too clingy. The last thing he wanted to do was annoy his boyfriend. Yeah, boyfriend. He contemplated the term in his mind mulling over the fact that he, Sam Winchester, was dating Castel, his ex-angel best friend and, in some odd way, business partner. It made him smile, thinking of it.

 

Eventually he heard the crackle of sticks behind him as Castiel jogged to catch up, momentarily caught in his own thoughts. Sam was surprised when he laced his fingers in his, raising an inquisitive brow at the outline of Castiel’s form, cast partway into shadow by the setting sun.

 

“You really don’t have to Cass, I wasn’t thinking about the increase in hiking difficulty.”

 

As if on cue, Cass stumbled, foot catching in a stray twig. He tilted forward a fraction, but was able to catch himself grip momentarily tightening on Sam’s hand. As he righted, and they continued, he glanced at Sam.

 

“I don’t mind.” There was a couple seconds of unbelieving silence before he added, “I much prefer being in contact with you, I just didn’t want to presume…”

 

Sam blushed at that comment and was thankful that the rapidly increasing darkness masked it. “Me too Cass,” he all but whispered back.

 

The rest of the hike was made in silence, hands never leaving each other’s grip. Once they arrived at the top of the small hill, the dense forest had given way to a grassy flat, exactly as Sam had described it.

 

Sam quickly pulled out the blanket, settling it over the slightly damp ground and smoothing out the surface as best he could. When it looked as if he were finished, Castiel joined him, finally able to delve into the depths of the food, pulling out the treats and laying them out to view.

 

He plucked one of the strawberries out of the container, pulling the red from its stem and popping it in his mouth, nearly moaning in ecstasy as the sweet juice flooded his senses.

 

Sam watched with fascinated eyes, stealing a strawberry from its bunch and drizzling chocolate syrup over it before holding it to Cass’ lips.

 

Their eyes met, and without breaking contact, Castiel leaned forward, taking the whole berry into his mouth, lips barely brushing the tips of Sam’s fingers.

 

Sam’s gaze snapped to Cass’ mouth at the contact, mesmerised as his pink tongue darted out to lick at the stray chocolate that had rubbed off on his bow. He couldn’t help leaning forward and meeting those lips with his own, Castiel moaning at the unexpected gesture, quickly swallowing the rest of his food.

 

He tasted the sweet remnants of the fruit on Cass’ tongue, devouring his mouth before he was pushed onto his back, Cass quickly straddling his legs, holding him down.

 

He watched as Castiel reached for another tupperware container, peeling the lid back and retrieving an apple slice, making sure to pop the jar of caramel next, generously coating the fruit in the sticky substance.

 

He let some of the golden mixture dribble onto Sam’s lips before feeding him the fruit and kissing away the mess he had created, thoroughly licking at his mouth to ensure that the caramel was properly cleaned away.

 

Castiel leaned forward and nibbled at the shell of his ear before muttering, “do you want another one, or something else?”

 

“I think I’d like a marshmallow.”

 

Castiel smiled, opening the plastic bag and selecting one of the fluffy, white treats. He placed half of one in his mouth before bending over and letting Sam bite off the second half, munching on the sweet sugar and desperate for another taste.

 

This time, instead of grabbing some fruit, Castiel reached for the bottle of Hershey’s syrup, beginning to dangle it over Sam’s body and spilling a line on to his neck.

 

“I apologize,” he muttered, obviously not sorry at all, before descending on the smooth expanse of skin, Sam tilting his head to the side to allow him better access.

 

He trailed hot breath back up to Sam’s mouth, kissing him in earnest, tongues locked in a battle. A slight chill was settling in, so no clothing was removed, but they stayed close, feeding each other sweet fruits and quite frequently spilling sauce on their bodies, napkins forgotten about at the bunker leaving only their mouths available.

 

They eventually rolled onto their backs, hands clasped between them, and stared at the twinkles of light in the sky. Castiel began pointing out constellations, and Sam was content to listen to the wild stories being told.

 

He rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder, letting the low vibrations of his voice wash over him. Cass’ speech was always soothing and pleasant to listen to. He remembered the raspy grit of it earlier when he told Sam he loved him, and he couldn’t help but smile into the man’s shoulder and snuggle closer, momentarily interrupting his constellation monologue.

 

He felt a hand run through his hair, and he sighed, happy with the touch. He felt cared for. He hadn't felt truly cared for in a while. Dean tried but, in all honesty, he sucks at it, recently anyway, still treating him like a child and… Sam didn’t want to go down that path right now, not when he was so happy.

 

What was Dean going to say when he returned to the bunker? Sam guessed that he had been able deduce Sam’s crush on the angel, he hadn’t exactly been covert about it and his brother had been reading his body language for ages. If he had suspected he thankfully never mentioned it, but Sam was still pretty sure he knew.

 

Still, he probably never fathomed that Castiel would return his feelings. It still seemed unbelievable to Sam, it was probably unfathomable to Dean who so intimately knew all of his sins.

 

He tried to roll further into Cas’ embrace, but was already plastered against his side. The hand stroking his hair stilled, reaching down to tilt his face up.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said, voice light. “Why?”

 

“You tensed up a bit ago and it now seems as if you are trying to take up permanent residence under my arm.”

 

Sam let out a strained chuckle. “Sorry, I’ll try not to.”

 

“It’s fine, I’m just worried.”

 

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “I was just thinking about things, nothing to worry over.”

 

“What things?”

 

Taking a breath to steady himself, he responded honestly. “Just wondering what Dean is going to think about this.”

 

“Oh.”

 

The silence was deafening, and Sam could feel the familiar curl of self-doubt surround him. Castiel’s voice, surprisingly soft in the night, floated over to him.

 

“Would that be apt to change anything between us?”

 

Sam looked back up at him. “What?”

 

“If Dean were to disapprove, would you want to cease-?”

 

“No,” a kiss, “God, no Cass,” another kiss, “you’re so important to me. I can’t even explain,” a final, slow kiss before pulling back. “I don’t think he’ll disapprove anyway, just, I think he’ll be surprised, and it might take some time for him to get used to the idea, that’s all.”

  
Castiel nods, muffling a yawn before bending forwards to kiss Sam again, who welcomed the intense heat of his mouth. They were quickly desperate for one another, hands slipping beneath their layers, mouths exploring every inch of exposed skin, tugging innocently at their clothing.

 

They rolled over the edge of the blanket and into the grass, patches still soft with the memory of yesterday’s rain. Their bodies got covered in mud and when they eventually separated, Sam looked down at the mess the two of them made, chuckling at the smeared dirt on their attire, smudges covering the backs of his knuckles where he had been grasping at Cass’ trench coat.

 

“I guess another shower is warranted,” he murmured into Cass’ neck.

 

The angel just smiled in return, leading into the touch and running a hand through his hair.

 

“I love your hair.”

 

Sam sat up and turned towards him, making sure to avoid jostling Castiel’s hand from it’s position on his head. He raised his own hand forward and storked it through the side of the black strands, still askew from their previous romp. He came to rest, a large palm on Castiel’s cheek.

 

“I’m pretty fond of yours too.”

 

They both closed their eyes as Sam leaned in for another kiss. This one was slow and relaxed, and Castiel melted under his suave touch, tongues lazily entwining with each other’s.

 

The hunter pulled away and smiled. “We should probably pack up. It’s getting pretty late.”

 

“I thought that was the point,” he joked, tilting his head and hauling himself up from his position on the ground, “we are stargazing. It wouldn’t be prudent if it was not late.”

 

Sam laughed and joined him standing, helping to pack away the empty tupperware and leftover food that remained.

 

“True, but I think we’ve had our fair share of stargazing tonight. It’s almost two am.”

 

Castiel just shrugged and lifted a side of the blanket, waiting for Sam to lift the opposite edge.

 

They shook out the loose grass and dirt that had hidden itself in the knit cotton, and proceed to fold the fabric into a neat square, tucking it into the side of the backpack and beginning their hike back.

 

“I guess we’ll have to get that trenchcoat into the wash as fast as possible. Can we even do that, or will it need to be taken to the drycleaners?” Sam asked sheepishly as if embarrassed by the fact that the dirt smears appeared because of his actions.

 

Castiel shrugged. “The tag on the inside said to dry clean only, but I used a regular washing machine and it did it no harm.”

 

Sam grimaced. He was never a pro at laundry. “I mean, I don’t mind taking it to the cleaners. We can wash it if you’re sure it’ll survive, but I don’t want to take any blame if the damn thing shrinks.”

 

Castiel smiled and side-stepped so that he was nearer Sam, making sure to reach out and thread his fingers through the hunter’s, embracing the added danger of tripping that night brought. “I’m sure it will be fine. It’s not the end of the world if it does end up ruined in the machine.”

 

The statement made Sam laugh. If there was anything that was going to end the world, certainly would not be a messed up load of laundry. They had averted the apocalypse in crazy, life threatening ways too many times for earth to be fooled that easily.

 

“I guess you’ll just be stuck in some other clothing for the time remaining.”

 

He nodded. Castiel had a limited array of outfits. As an angel he never had to think about dirtying them with the stench of stale sweat or day old body odor and as the weeks he resided in his vessel wore on, the thick suit and long trenchcoat provided a kind of material safety blanket. When he had to change to that blue-vested convenience store uniform, it was the first time that he had felt like he was stepping out of his comfort zone.

 

Rebelling… that had been scary and new and wild, but there was such a sense of righteousness that he couldn’t honestly say that he had been focused on anything else besides saving the world, or at least contributing what he could to the cause. Hell, he was still fighting that fight today. But he never would have described it as uncomfortable.

 

But when he had first pulled on that white, linen shirt and thrift shop jeans, his skin itched with the sensation to tear the offending items away. He didn’t feel like himself. His discontent was definitely not born of angelic instinct considering that angels had no need or use for clothing or anything resembling it.

 

However once he truly fell and was required to change clothing on a human schedule, the rotation between outfits became part of the normal routine of life. Cass still didn’t have many items. Partially because when he was on his own, relying on his hourly earnings to get him by, he didn’t have much choice and thought that keeping fewer items neat was a better allocation of funds.

 

But it was also because he didn’t feel the need for an abundance of dress. He still prefered his suit and trenchcoat, he enjoyed the feeling of a collar and a silk tie to thread through the starched fabric, but now he was thinking that maybe he prefered a different type of clothing.

 

He thought back to Sam’s shirt, soft to the touch, practically caressing his skin, and his sweatpants warm and fuzzy.

 

But Castiel had felt these sensations before. No, he knew that the real reason he preferred these items to any other clothes he had was because they were Sam’s. Not only did the ownership remind of the tall man beside him, but the smell that would assault his nostrils made him nostalgic for the sensation of being wrapped in his arms.

 

He couldn’t very well wear Sam’s clothing all the time, (it wouldn’t really be Sam’s clothing then, anyway), because the built six-four frame of the large man towered over Castiel and his plaids would hang off, seams inches past his shoulders and waistbands bagging down.

 

They eventually arrived at the bunker, bodies exhausted by the hike back, once again pausing at the doorway as Sam fumbled with the key to let them in. They were greeted by an eerie darkness, air practically vibrating. They were usually asleep at this time of night, or awake with the various lights ablaze, but coming home in the wee morning hours with silence and shadows was a rare experience.

 

He thought he could feel Sam shiver beside him, but taking a couple steps forward brought his outstretched hand in contact with one of the old light switches, flicking it on and pausing as the old wiring hissed and flickered to life.

 

Sam headed towards the kitchen to put the remaining food away and set the dirty dishes in the sink. Cass followed him.

 

“You know, we could always stop by a mall sometime and get you some new clothing.”

 

Castiel just gave him an inquiring look, gesturing Sam towards the dishes as he grabbed the food to return it in it’s proper place.

 

“You just don’t have a lot of options to wear, which probably didn’t bug you as an angel, but now,” Sam shrugged beginning to feel the tingling grip of insecurity. Color rose to his cheeks. Maybe he was being a bit too presumptuous, “I mean, not that you have to care now, but maybe you want a little variety. You don’t have to be fashionably conscious to want choices, you know? We could go together, make it a date.”

 

Sam had already turned on the water and started on the dishes despite the fact that his original intention was to leave them for tomorrow.. However he paused, tap still running, looking over towards Cass to see what his response would be.

 

He thought that Sam was probably right. A trip to the mall would serve him well. He wasn’t used to the idea of being doted on, but he smiled at the thought of Sam caring enough to accompany him instead of handing over some bills and shoving him out the door like Dean had one day after he had spilt coffee over a shirt.

 

He unconsciously wiped his hands on his pants after covering the last half of their pie. Two steps carried him towards the pleather stool where he took a seat, admiring Sam’s lean backside as he continued to do their chores.

 

Besides, Cass reasoned, malls seemed like fairly common location for dates, and he thought that if they were playing at being normal for a week, spending a couple hours wandering through the various storefronts at a mall wouldn’t be the worst of it.

 

“Having some added variety sounds good. Where do you propose we go?”

  
Sam shrugs, finishing the last of the dishes and adding them to the drying rack. He turned around to face Castiel who had taken a seat at one of the stools. He splayed his hands out and leaned into the granite countertop, inching towards Cass as he did so.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t really have any ideas. I guess we can just Search the Web for the nearest one. I can’t imagine it would be more than a half hour drive.”

 

It was Castiel’s turn to shrug. “We are in a rather small town.”

  
Sam gave him the quickest peck and pushed himself up, walking towards the small room which temporarily housed his laptop. “I guess we’ll find out,” he shouted back.

 

Cass rolled his eyes, but got up, thinking that this probably could have waited until morning considering that Sam had been so anxious to get back once given the hour. But he sighed and followed him to the small, slightly hidden room.

 

This time Castiel didn’t pause in the doorway. He stepped in after Sam, and walked over to the armchair, sliding in next to the hunter. It was a large piece, but two grown men sharing was still a squeeze. Castiel ended up sideways, cuddled up near Sam, legs thrown over the arm.

 

Sam opened the laptop and pressed the power button, the blue loading screen and welcome flashing in front of their faces.

 

It’s late and Cass is finally starting to feel the pull of sleep. He yawns, making sure to cover his mouth as he does so, eyes squinting shut. He blinks for a moment after opening them, fully taking in his face looking back.

 

“That is not the normal background,” Castiel states, examining the old photo of them that Sam had somehow recovered. “How did you even get that?”

 

“It’s online, I’ve had the link to it in my favorites since about the time the guy published the piece,” he stated, tilting his head so that it was resting against Castiel’s shoulder. “I thought it was an appropriate change, considering. I just did it this morning.”

 

Cass couldn’t help but smile at the soft kiss pressed to the backside of his ear. Sam had found the article and kept track of the picture even before they had started, whatever this is. That meant a surprising amount to Cass. In a way it validated the idea that Sam had been harboring this crush for at least as long as he had. Those damn butterflies returned to his stomach and he knew that he had the biggest smile on his face that he couldn’t wipe off even if he had wanted to.

 

So instead he just elbowed Sam and muttered to him to look up the damn mall location.

 

As they were finished, Castiel stifled another yawn and Sam sniffed before mirroring him and closing the computer screen.

 

“Bedtime angel,” he whispered in his ear before attempting to push Castiel off the armchair.

 

“Don’t make me carry you,” he joked, but he could have sworn he heard Castiel mutter, “I’d like that” through his heavy lips, and so Sam scooped the man into his arms, lifting up the surprisingly heavy pile of Cass bridal-style, and continuing on to his bedroom.

 

He set Cass upright so that they were standing in front of each other and slowly peeled his jacket off, discarding it on the ground in a messy pile. He was able to pull Cass’ shirt off as well before the angel leaned forward, planting their lips together.

 

“I’m perfectly capable of undressing myself,” he murmured against Sam.

 

“It didn’t look like it from where I was standing,” he quipped back, hands finding the brass button of Cass’ jeans. “Besides, maybe I like helping you out.”

 

“Maybe I like you liking helping me out.”

 

Sam snorted at the ridiculousness of that statement before pulling Castiel’s pants, along with his undergarments, down and tugging him forward so that he stepped out of the pooled cloth around his ankles.

 

“You’re overdressed,” Cass said, speech slightlyl slurred with sleep, tugging at the hem of Sam’s shirt.

 

“Cass, I never took you for someone who used old cliches. I’m disappointed.”

 

“No you aren’t,” he quipped back, finally yanking the shirt over Sam’s head, but having to stifle back another yawn.

 

“Bed,” Sam said, lightly shoving Castiel so that he stepped back towards Sam’s bed. He continued with the forward momentum and walked to the edge of the bed, clamoring on and crawling under the duvet, sliding over until he was just left of the center of the mattress.

  
Sam made quick work of the rest of his clothing and joined Castiel under the covers, spooning him tightly, knowing that he’ll never let this angel go.


	4. In Which Sam and Cass Finally Hunker Down and Call the Bunker Home

 

CHAPTER FOUR: IN WHICH SAM AND CASTIEL HUNKER DOWN AND CALL THE BUNKER HOME

 

The next day they slept through the morning, shedding last night’s exhaustion in the process. As Sam stirred into consciousness at a little past noon, he decided not to wake Castiel, letting him sleep as long as needed. He didn’t want to leave the angel though, settling onto his side so that he could watch the heavy breathing of his companion.

 

When it was apparent that Cass wasn’t going to wake any time soon, he stretched and slid from the bed. Dirt still streaked his skin, making him realize that they had never made it into the shower last night in their half conscious state. He grimaced back at the sheets, making a mental note to change them before tonight. He didn’t want to sleep in the mess they had potentially created.

 

He padded into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the heavy spray warm up before shedding his clothing and stepping in. The pebbled feel of water on his back helped loosen muscles that he didn’t even realize were sore. Cass would probably feel the same way once he woke up and Sam wondered if he would be the willing recipient of a massage. He smirked, letting his mind wander and play with various outcomes to that scenario, his hands unconsciously wandering down as he scrubbed his body.

 

His fingers found his sac, gently fondling the sensitive skin before cleaning the rest of his body, rinsing away the foamy suds and last traces of grime.

 

Stepping out of the shower, he towelled off, strolling back into their bedroom, surprised to find Cass up, sitting, back resting against the headboard.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hello.”

 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” Sam confessed, walking forward towards the bed and sitting on the edge next to Castiel.

 

“It’s certainly late enough,” Castiel commented, gesturing towards the clock, smiling.

 

“Yeah. We definitely slept in, didn’t we?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Sam leaned forward, placing a kiss against Castiel’s lips. “I’m assuming you want to take a shower?”

 

“That would be most appreciated.”

 

“Should I start breakfast?”

 

Cass nodded. “Eggs? If you feel so inclined.”  
  


“Of course.”

 

Sam walked out, only stopping briefly to slip on some sweats, Castiel admiring his lean back at his retreat.

 

He groaned and flopped back in the bed before forcing himself awake and up, taking the quickest shower he could manage while still thoroughly cleaning himself, and joining Sam in the kitchen where a large plate of eggs, toast and breakfast sausage had been prepared and a fork was being offered to him, per usual.

 

They tucked in, eating in a comfortable silence, making eyes at each other over their food, Sam’s foot occasionally nudging against his own.

 

After finishing and cleaning up, Cass found himself enveloped in another brief hug, a kiss placed on his head before Sam gestured to their rooms, suggesting they dress and then take off, still planning on going to the mall.

 

It was probably a good thing they were going clothing shopping, Castiel thought. He was pulling on his last pair of clean pants and one of the generic, grey t-shirts he owned. They hadn’t done laundry recently, and he took notice of the lack of options he had available, especially when he couldn’t zap himself clean. His current wardobe couldn’t even last him a week and that was simply inconvenient if nothing else.

 

He felt naked without his trench coat, but when he stepped out of his room, Sam offered him a worn jacked he had often seen the hunter himself wearing during cases.

 

He took the heavy blue garment and slung it over his shoulders, reveling in the weight of the fabric against himself, another constant reminder of how easily he now fit into Sam’s life.

 

Sam smiled as Castiel walked towards the exit, admiring the simple jacket on his frame as well, blushing at the sight. It was stupid that such a small thing got to him, but it was such a classic romance trope and he couldn’t help but be glad that during their week of normalcy, they also experienced the cheesy and cliche and he could be as ecstatic about it as he wanted with no shame.

 

As they left the bunker and made their way into the neighborhood area, Sam looked around. Cars lined the sides of the streets, but no one was actually out of their houses at this time.

 

Sam hadn’t said anything, but Castiel got the hint. He quirked an eyebrow. “Are we stealing a car?”

 

It was worth it for nothing else than the blush that spread through Sam’s face. “Yeah. The mall is a bit aways and a taxi seemed like more hassle than it’s worth. Plus, it’s a lot easier to run credit card scams to buy things with, than it is to actually get ahold of cash and I don’t think these taxis take cards.”

 

Castiel gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to justify yourself. It was just entertaining to see your reaction.”

 

Sam huffed, and elbowed him goodnaturedly. “So, do you have a preference?” He flung his arms out and walked a little in front of Cass, turning back towards him, “we have a whole street of choices.”

 

Cass gave another laugh and turned around. There was an oddly colored Geo Metro on the corner which he was tempted to choose, but thought that something inconspicuous would be better since they were stealing it after all.

 

A generic silver sedan was awkwardly parallel parked a couple yards ahead. “What do you think of that one?” he asks, trusting his arm out to point.

 

“Looks perfect, Cass.”

 

With another glance around the block to make sure that it was empty, Sam surreptitiously pulled a crowbar from the inner depths of his jacket and unlocked the car for both of them, sliding into the drivers seat and quickly pulling the plastic paneling off to expose the wires.

 

He had the car up and running in no time and they took off, not wanting to stay any longer than necessary.

 

Castiel fiddled with the radio as they drove and they ended up listening to a mix of different music types. Sam seemed to like every genre and Castiel was set on finding one that he would dislike, but throughout the whole journey, the only station he had demanded the angel change was some talk show that was in a heated debate on something politically related.

 

They ended up pulling up to the mall sooner than Cass expected, somehow managing to snag a parking space near the front doors, parking neatly and leaving the car, of course remembering to lock it and replace the protective plastic so it didn’t look stolen.

 

They walked up towards the doors and entered, tile walkways beneath their feet and store openings everywhere. Truth be told, it was a bit overwhelming, but Castiel just looked around and asked, “where are we going first?”

 

“To tell you the truth, I don’t really know. I haven’t ever really hung around one of these places before.” He took another look around before glancing at Cass. “Let’s start at one of the larger department stores?”

 

The first one they entered was Nordstroms, and from Castiels limited knowledge of the thrift shops the Winchester’s normally stopped at, the prices here were a bit higher than even the normal retail standard.

 

The mannequins stood tall and slightly intimidating, sleek in their fashion-forward clothing decoration. Castiel was hesitant to purchase anything at all, a combination of price and grandeur causing him to be hesitant, but Sam just shrugged. “It’s not our money,” he pointed out and piled a couple more socks into his arms.

 

The footwear was all that they ended up buying there, but they continued to the next store and the next, adding garments to their purchases as they deemed necessary. It was mostly Sam making suggestions and Castiel agreeing, but they eventually ended up stopping at completely irrelevant locations, like Hallmark and Spencers, just to laugh at the items being sold.

 

It was fun, and for the first time Castiel understood why this process was seen as therapeutic in many pop culture references.

 

Over the course of their day, they probably bought too much and overspent on greasy mall food, but they exited the building laughing and Sam couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time with Cass. Anything that made him smile was worth it to the hunter.

 

Returning to the neighborhood, they made sure that the car was parked in exactly the same spot, even refilling the gas before returning it. They didn’t know if the family would never notice, or if there would just be a great relief when they realized their car wasn’t actually stolen, but they didn’t wait around to see, instead slinking back to the bunker, arms laden with their purchases.

 

As they made their way inside, Castiel lead Sam down the hallway in the opposite direction of the hunter’s room, towards his own, dropping the bags he was carrying immediately after he crossed the threshold.

 

Sam had never really looked at Castiel’s room before. It was also pretty bare, but Sam assumed that was only because he didn’t really need a room until recently, having been an angel and all. And while Sam and Dean had a whole life growing up to collect nic-nacks, Castiel had only been human for so long.

 

“You know, maybe we should decorate some,” Sam suggested, setting his bags down next to Cass’ and beginning to rifle through them, pulling out some of the new clothing and walking towards Castiel’s closet to help put them away.

 

Cass soon joined him, placing armfuls of clothing in their proper places. “I don’t require decoration.”

 

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s nice…” Sam said, trailing off. “Makes you feel more at home.”

 

“Your room doesn’t have any,” Castiel added. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but after the words had escaped his mouth, he was worried that he might have said the wrong thing, pried too far. “I didn’t mean to imply anything,” he added lamely.

 

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I didn’t think of this place as home for a long time, so it makes sense that I didn’t want to… I don’t know, get too attached I guess?”

 

He stopped shelving items so that he could rest his hand on the hunter’s arm. Sam looked over at him and the crackle of connection between them sent their lips surging towards each other for a brief kiss, Castiel’s palm moving to rest on his cheek.

 

They pulled apart and Sam smiled. “I think about it as home now though. Especially with you here, and Dean’s seemed to settle in and-” he bit his lip, glancing away before turning back, “I mean, we’ve been using these facilities for awhile. It doesn’t seem like it’s gonna get busted, or that we’re going to permanently move anytime soon so,” he shrugged, snuggling closer to Castiel, “what’s the harm in thinking this is my home?”

 

Castiel liked that sentiment, liked the fact that he was a factor in where Sam felt comfortable. Homes weren’t something angels were necessarily tuned to. Yes, they resided in Heaven, but there wasn’t ever a place to call theirs, it was always borrowed space from someone else’s life. Calling the bunker home was as significant for Sam as it was for Castiel, but he didn’t mention any of that. Instead, he grasped Sam’s hands, gently leading him to the bed where they collapsed, bodies tangling together.

 

The kisses this time were slow and languid, completely relaxed. He slowly pushed Sam so that he was on his back, Castiel mouthing the skin of his jaw and neck above him, gently lavishing attention on his collar, lightly pulling at the t-shirt he wore in order to do so.

 

He soon pushed the article off completely, leaving Sam’s chest exposed. He kissed down towards his nipples, giving each bud it’s own kisses and licks, before sitting up and sliding off the bed.

 

He leaned over Sam, pecking him once on the cheek. “I’m very sorry for this interruption. I’ll be back soon.”

 

Sam watched as Castiel strolled out the door, but didn’t miss the outline of his cock apparent through the jeans he wore. He wondered what Cass was doing, but shrugged and instead decided to shuck his pants off, relieving himself of the pressure of it’s confines.

 

Curling his fist around his shaft, he began to stroke loosely up and down, playing with the foreskin that stretched over his head, pulling it back and releasing it gently.

 

A couple moments later, Castiel returned, frozen in the doorway when met with the sight of Sam Winchester sprawled on his bed, pleasing himself. His cheeks pinked as the hunter’s eyes grazed over him, arousa painfullyl apparent and dripping precome.

 

Sam’s eyes landed on Castiel’s hand where he clutched the bottle of lube that had been stored in the other room. Cass noticed where he was looking, and his blush deepened. “I don’t”, he began, licking his lips as Sam lightly traced a finger over his body, and image of sin splayed out in front of him, “I don’t have any, and I thought it would be best to retrieve any necessities before we started.”

 

His throat had gone dry, but Sam just chuckled, cheeks dimpling in that way that they did. He motioned with his head to join him and Cass spared no time crossing the room clamboring over towards Sam, who instantly reached off and made quick work of the angel’s clothing.

 

“You’re so smart,” he mouthed into his neck, hands winding down to palm at Castiel’s now bare erection.

 

He whimpered in response and bucked up into the warm palm, allowing himself a couple moments of wanton pleasure before pushing back so that they toppled over and he was once again hovering over Sam.

  
He pushed Sam’s leg open kissing down his body and pressing his own lips to the puckered entrance. Sam moaned, thrusting up into the gesture, and Castiel was pleased at the reaction he was able to elicit and began licking tentatively at the rim, leaving little nips in his wake, occasionally sucking small bruises into the skin.

 

Sam was writhing by the time he uncapped the lube and coated a finger in it, working it against his hole before slowly pushing it in. He thrust a couple times, Sam relaxing and loosening quickly, before adding another finger, mesmerised by the elated pleasure crossing Sam’s Face.

 

He scissored his fingers, working his way deeper. Sam gasped.

 

“Fuck. Cass, fuck me,” another gasp as his fingers brushed past his prostate, “Cass please.”

 

He lowered himself so that his mouth was once more at Sam’s rim, thrusting his tongue in as deep as he could manage, swirling against his walls.

 

Sam gave a strangled cry and Castiel pulled pack, crawling up Sam and thrusting inside in one fluid motion, cock nestled deep.

  
“Oh,” Castiel moaned, eyes squinted shut against Sam’s shoulder.

 

Sam wiggled beneath him. “Move Cass, please.”

 

“Sam,” his voice was wrecked, he could hear it, his breathing ragged as he tried to get himself under control, sure that he would come the instant he moved.

 

He held Sam still a moment, pulling out before pushing slowly back in, setting a leisurely pace with each thrust, Sam’s hips meeting each movement, moans and heavy breaths mixing with their kisses until Castiel’s stuttered climax, Sam following as the warm gush of Cass’ come filled him.

 

“I apologize,” Cass said through heavy breaths, “that was quicker than I intended. Human culture normally values stamina.”

 

Sam laughed and pulled Castiel closer against him, burying his face in the angel’s side to conceal the wide grin on his face. That was such a typically Cass statement and it didn’t matter if sex was slow or fast, it was amazing because it was with this phenomenal angel, his phenomenal angel.

 

“Have I ever told you, you’re perfect?” he asks, nose pressed against Castiel’s skin.

 

“I don’t think that has ever come up.”

 

“Well, consider this your official notice.” He pulled back and looked once more into those striking blue eyes. “You, Castiel, are perfect and I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Sam Winchester.”

 

They leaned into a chase kiss, allowing themselves to relax into the bed and pulling a large, heavy quilt over their frames. Sam rested his palm on Castiel’s side, thumb sliding back and forth, stroking the smooth plane. They lay in silence for awhile, content with each other’s company.

 

“What are you thinking of for tomorrow?”

 

Sam shrugged. “To tell you the truth i hadn’t thought that  far ahead.” He turned to face Cass. “Any ideas?”

 

“No. Lebanon, Kansas might be a good location for a secret meeting space, but it does not have many tourist attractions.”

 

Sam chuckled and cuddled closer to Cass. “I wish there was a beach near here. That was the nice part about living in California, even if the beaches near Stanford were cold and foggy during the winter. It’s still a nice place to relax. Plus, it can be fun to bundle up.”

 

He gave Cass another kiss. “We’ll have to go to the beach sometime. The next time we’re ocean-side for a hunt or something. We can send Dean off and make it just a date with us two.”

 

“That would be nice. I’ve never been to a beach before.”

 

“Wait,” Sam pulled back to fully face Castiel, “never?” he asked incredulously.

 

“I never had a need to,” Cass stated, perplexed at Sam’s astonishment.

 

“I know what we’re doing tomorrow,” Sam stated, beginning to detangle himself from Castiel. “We’re going to the coast.”

 

“We’re nowhere near the coast, you were just saying-”

 

“That doesn’t have to stop us.”

 

Sam slid off the bed, standing up and beginning to walk towards the door, motioning for Cass to follow if he wanted to. He didn’t know where this idea had come from, but a sudden rush of motivation flooded him and, fuck it, it was their vacation, they could do whatever they wanted.

 

He began to walk out of the room towards the den, seeking out his worn computer. Castiel soon caught up with him and they entered the cosy room, squishing into the large armchair together once more as Sam pulled out the electronic.

 

As the computer booted up, Castiel shifted towards Sam in the limited space they had. “Are you going to explain what is going on?”

 

“Well,” he started, slinging an arm around Castiel. “I thought that maybe you would want to visit a beach? We’ll stay away from anything in the north, so it’ll be sunny and warm. I was thinking Southern California or Florida since they’re standard beach areas… Only if you want though,” Sam amended, thinking that maybe Castiel actually wouldn’t want to travel that far, at least right now. Perhaps he has been a bit presumptuous?

 

But Castiel didn’t look angry or offended, just a bit perplexed. “Are you suggesting that we fly to the beach?”

 

“Yeah,” he trailed off, sheepishly.

 

“That sounds lovely, Sam, but isn’t human air travel expensive?”

 

“Well, yeah,” he replied, removing his arm so that both hands could rest against the keyboard, beginning to navigate the web as the OS loaded, an open browser popping up, “especially next-day tickets, but we have endless amounts of credit card scams that we can run and we already have fake IDs made.”

 

Castiel tilted his head and Sam smiled. “I made some extras for you the last time I was updating our FBI badges, so you actually have a plain ol’ licence instead of important identification that might attract attention.”

 

“Thank you Sam, that’s very thoughtful.”

 

Sam guessed it was some twisted right of passage to become a hunter that allowed the creation of fake identification to become a meaningful gesture. That along with new guns and knives or the convenience store gifts that him and his brother bought each other every year for Christmas… He decided not to dwell on it too much, accepting Castiel’s thanks graciously before focusing on the screen.

 

He discovered a plane leaving for LAX the next day in the early afternoon. He cringed at the price, but it was cheaper than anything leaving for Florida, and he was hit with a fraction of nostalgia for the West Coast, anyway. They hadn’t ever had a case on the California coastline, so the beaches were terrible-memory free for Sam.

 

Castiel gave a half-hearted, “are you sure?” as the tickets were added to their cart, but excitement had already creeped into his voice. This was so unlike anything he would think to do on his own, a complete turn from the rigid rules of angelicy and overall Sam and Dean lived without extravagance (their annual trip to Vegas being the obvious exception). It was once more an exciting aspect of human impulse that he was entertaining.

  
“We’re going to pull out all the stops on this trip,” was Sam’s reply


	5. in Which a Coastal Sunset is Observed

 

CHAPTER FIVE: IN WHICH A COASTAL SUNSET IS OBSERVED

 

The next morning went quickly, even with Castiel’s newly developed penchant for sleeping in and trying to get Sam to cuddle with him instead of starting their day bright and early. They hastily packed, not needing to take anything more than a couple pairs of clothes with them, and after a quick breakfast, taxi’d their way over to MCI airport since they wouldn’t have been able to return any car they took.

 

Thanking their driver and tipping them, they grasped tightly to their bags and stepped into the large terminal. Sam’s fingers threaded through Castiel’s, as they obtained their tickets from an automated machine and headed towards the TSA lines with bated breath.

 

Getting through airport security was easier than Sam had imagined. The increase in TSA vigilance wasn’t enough to take notice of their fake IDs and stolen credit cards -- something that Sam was infinitely grateful for considering he was not about to break out of whatever jail they would be thrown in, only to road trip over to California. (They wouldn’t even have arrived in good time, anyway.)

 

LAX was winding and confusing, but they steadily wove their way through the crowds, ending up at a small office near a parking garage with bright letters overhead that read: CAR RENTALS. Sam smiled at Cass before opening the door for him, allowing him to step over the threshold first, but making sure to follow close behind.

 

The man behind the counter greeted them. He was short, stocky, with a scraggly beard, but was well dressed in a crisp button down. “What can I do ya for?” he asked as they approached the counter.

 

“We need a car,” Sam said, stating the obvious. “Preferably one with decent Gas milage? We’re driving towards the beach.”

 

“Where’s your final destination?”

 

Sam glanced at Cass before turning back to the attendant. “We don’t really know, we’re just kind of,” he waved his hand around, “here.”

 

“Whelp, there’s a nice little hotel I can recommend ya, if yer interested, and we do have a Prius to rent if you don’t mind bein’ seen in one.”

 

“That sounds fantastic,” Sam smiled, leaning forward as the man pulled out a map, beginning to mark their route.  
  


Castiel stepped forwards as well, listening to him speak. He was pretty sure his navigation skills were better than the hunter’s and thought it would be safer if he also knew where they were headed. Once the route had been explained to them, and the map handed over to Cass for their safekeeping, the man stepped away from the counter to grab some paperwork that they would need to fill out.

 

Castiel watched Sam’s eyes as they traced over the various tourist pamphlets that were hung on the wall, brightly colored with enticing events. He wondered whether Sam would want to partake in any of the activities, noticing his eyes regularly drifting back towards some for an amusement park in Anaheim.

 

Before he could ask, the man returned holding a stack of papers and a pen, sliding them across to Sam who began to write carefully in the spaces provided. In no time, with surprisingly little effort, they were driving out of the parking garage and through the streets of LA until the highway carried them off onto some lesser known roads out of the city.

 

The route was pretty simple, but Sam was glad that Castiel knew where he was going. It definitely took pressure off of him, and he allowed himself to focus on driving, following the angel’s directions whenever he piped up.

 

They chatted idly for awhile, but the further out from the city they got, the more their conversation filled with it’s own pauses until they drove continuously with nothing but companionable silence and the winding, scenic route providing a sense of relaxation. It was similar to the many times they were on the road for hunting, but the trips that were job related were tense with the prospect of a potential case, or riddled with exhaustion afterwards, never able to fully appreciate the calming air of the open roadway.

 

Hours ticked away this way. Experiencing the drive as a tourist was something completely different, and Sam soon found himself absentmindedly playing with Castiel’s hand which was resting delicately on Cass’ seat between them. It was freeing, normal, something that anyone might expect a young couple to do.

 

He couldn’t help grinning at that thought, dimples forming in his cheeks. Cass must have noticed, because he offered a tentative, “what?” tugging on his hand lightly as if to capture Sam’s attention.

 

“I’m just happy, that’s all,” he said, briefly looking over at his boyfriend.

 

Castiel still looked unsure, confusion marring his face, but he nodded anyway. Sam gave a pull at their hands in response.

 

“I’m serious. If I think too much about the fact we’re together… I just can’t believe it, Cass. You make me happy.”

 

He had that dopey look on his face that Castiel found irresistible, but he turned away, staring out his window face flush with embarrassment at Sam’s words. How was it that after the past couple days spent together, his insides still twisted and cheeks still heated at the love-sick sayings Sam would spew?

 

He re-adjusted the grip on their hands and squeezed tightly, getting a small pulse back in response. “I believe we’re supposed to turn at the road ahead.”

 

“Oh? Kay.”

 

Sure enough, as they rounded the corner, a towering hotel came into view, with large, windowed rooms that looked out over the beach and a large, neon sign in slanted script with the establishment’s name spelled out.

 

Sam gave a short chuckle. “Hotel Clamifornia,” he read, looking sideways at Cass who was resolutely looking up at the beige building, distain apparent on his face. “It’s a pun,” he began to explain, “there’s a pretty famous song-”

 

“I know the song,” Castiel cut him off. “I understand the reference, I just do not think it’s funny.”

 

This time, Sam laughed with a hearty boom, “that probably means you have a good sense of humor. It is a pretty terrible pun.”

 

Cass nodded, smiling, and they both proceeded up the stone walkway, entering through the large glass doors that adorned the front. The interior was an odd mish-mash of clean, modern lines, and sea related artwork typically found in oceanside establishments. Sam didn’t know if he liked it, but he figured he wasn’t the best judge of interior decoration. Everything looked nice enough, and he was pretty sure there was going to be a hefty price tag associated with their room, but it didn’t matter. They had the cash to spare and as long as he was with Cass...

 

They strolled up to the concierge desk where a portly woman greeted them, smile dazzling under the sparkling lights overhead.

 

“Hello, and welcome to Hotel Clamifornia. Do you already have a reservation?”

 

“No, ah, we were referred here by the car rental company we used. Do you have any vacancies for the night?”

 

“Of course, darling,” she replied, looking up at Sam, “it’s the off season right now, so there’s plenty of space for you. What type of room are ya wanting?”

 

“Um,” he glanced at Cass who just tilted his head in a noncommittal answer. Looking back, he ventured “just, a queen? Or a king? It doesn’t really matter.”

 

“Alright,” she tisked, extending the word and filling the pause as her fingers flew over the keyboard of the hotel computer. “How many nights?”

 

“Three, uhh, wait. What time to we have to check out in the morning?”

 

“Eleven, but we can extend that to two p.m. for an additional thirty dollars.”

 

“Great. Let’s do that.”

 

“Awesome!” she exclaimed, typing in the last of the information. “I’ll just need your card.”

 

Sam handed it over, and waited patiently as she ran it through their system. He fingered the array of pamphlets nestled in the plastic holder stuck onto the front of the desk. They were the same as the ones in the rental office and Sam’s ministrations were born more out of something to do with his hands.

 

He stopped as his Visa was being handed back with another bright smile and a “here ya go!” from the staff member, along with two key cards, a room number scrawled on a sheet of paper accompanying them.

 

“You’re on floor three, room three-twelve, with a king sized bed and ocean view. There are food and drinks available in the room for purchase, as well as a room service menu. You’ll be charged at your time of checkout, if you stay past two on that day, an additional night will be added to your bill as will any amenities you choose to take advantage of in your room.”

 

“Thank you,” Sam said as he took their supplies, handing over one of the cards to Cass.

 

“Have a nice stay!”

 

She waved them off and they began to make their way towards the metallic elevator doors in the corner of the lobby.

 

Castiel shuffled his feet as they walked before glancing at Sam as they waited for the lift to arrive. “Why is Walt Disney Studios so important to you?”

 

Sam startled, furrowing his eyebrows. “What? It’s not, really… Where did you get that idea?”

 

“You have always been looking at the pamphlets or advertisements for Disneyland since our arrival. I know that is associated with Walt Disney Studios. I’m assuming it’s important because of the amount of attention you are allotting it.”

 

“Oh,” Sam trailed off for a moment before plastering a half-smile on his face, looking back at Cass. “It’s nothing, really. Just- Disneyland is a theme park and it’s kind of a classic thing to do as a kid -- or any age, really,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess I never got to experience it. Growing up as a hunter didn’t really allow for vacations to Disneyland.”

 

He sighed and glanced at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Castiel. Their elevator arrived, and when they discovered that it was empty, he decided to elaborate. “My friends and I were going to go the summer after school got out, uh, it was where I was going to propose to Jess. She liked the princesses and stuff. Anyway asking her to marry me in front of that castle was the most magical thing I could think to do for her.”

 

“I’m sorry that you never got to do that.”

 

“It’s fine.” Sam shook his head as if to clear the errant memories from his mind.

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow and met Sam’s eyes once he looked back up.

 

“Okay, it’s not fine, but it’s in the past and… I can’t do anything about it now.”

 

They stood in momentary silence, Castiel fiddling with the hem of his new jacket. They arrived at their floor, and with a crisp ping, the doors opened and they stepped out.

 

“We could go if you want.” He looked up and their eyes met, Sam’s expression unreadable as Cass made his suggestion. “To Disneyland? Only if you want though.”

 

Sam chuckled, a sideways smirk appearing on his lips. “Would you even like Disneyland? Large amusement park rides and tons of people.”

 

He just shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ve never been.”

 

“I guess this week has been all about new experiences for you, well, for both of us, really” Sam joked, taking another step towards Castiel so that he could take his hand as they walked. “I’d really love to go with you. It would kind of be like a childhood dream come true.”

 

They kissed as they reached their room door, Sam’s breath lingering a moment longer against Cass’ skin than normal.

 

“Tomorrow though or maybe even the next day. Today, we’re relaxing on the beach.”

 

Opening the door to their room and stepping inside, they found the decoration just as kitschy as the lobby. However, Sam couldn’t help but finding it homey and comfortable, and when he experimentally collapsed on the bed, it was divine fluff that he never wanted to leave. He tried to pull Cass down, but the man stood firm, unwavering.

 

“No, Sam, we should get to the beach before we lose too much time, it’s already late in the day.”

 

Sam gave an exaggerated sigh before muttering, “fine,” no real malice in his voice.

 

Castiel just smiled and nods towards the door, but Sam shakes his head, “let’s change first, I want to wear something comfy.”

 

They pulled on swimsuits (Castiel having gotten a pair yesterday whilst they were shopping) and loose T’s, grabbing a couple of the large, white beach towels that the hotel supplied them with before leaving their room and shuffling down the narrow hallway.

 

The hotel really was on the oceanfront. They were able to walk right onto the golden sand, the last tendrils of sunlight warming them as it began to lower in the sky. Setting up near a large piece of driftwood nestled in the dry sand, they spread their towels open and laid down, watching the various people walk along the shore.

 

The sensations of the beach were fascinating. Salty air and a constant breeze blowing grains of sand against one’s skin, Castiel found himself immersed in his own observations of this casual setting, regretting never visiting the coast sooner.

 

They had been lying there awhile, the sky beginning to turn a brilliant orange before their eyes before either one of them spoke. “I never get tired of watching humans. As an angel I found them fascinating, even when some of my brothers did not and they are still just as interesting.”

 

“Yeah? It can definitely be entertaining to people-watch. I guess I probably can’t even imagine your perspective on it though.”

 

“The more aspects of humanity I embrace, the more I am humbled by it.”

 

“Geez Cass, that’s deep,” Sam joked, nudging his shoulder against his companion’s.

 

But Cass just smiled. They had already done so much in such short time, he thought, thinking back to all of the wonderful interactions he had with Sam in the past couple days. He had experienced so much, some things seemingly mundane, but he had treasured every moment. Now he was here, halfway across the country from their current home, sitting on the beach next to Sam and watching the most beautiful sunset he thinks he’s ever set his eyes on. Despite all of the new experiences yet to come, both this week and beyond, he felt whole and happy in this moment.

  
Watching the sun lower against the sky was the perfect end to their very long day. Cass thought there was a beautiful finality to sunsets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! This piece was originally going to span the whole week that Sam and Castiel are together for, but Disneyland in and of itself is shaping up to be about 10k words, and I simply didn't have the time to complete that along with other projects, both academic and personal, so I'm turning that, and the remaining days into a sequel (or perhaps a trillogy, we'll see how ambitious I get)
> 
> I of course appreciate any reviews yall give, and I absolutely once more encourage you to stop by my [artist's livejournal](http://chef-geekier.livejournal.com/73923.html) and leave a nice comment for them. I hope you have an absolutely lovely day / week / whatever, and I hope you enjoyed reading this little fic.


End file.
